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Amy Billone


Paris to London  ☊

Before the train
plunges into the sea,
I watch grazing deer
and horses sprinting,
green grape vines
and high corn leaves,
skinny full grown
leaning trees beside
baby saplings cradled
in nets, fields of
wheat, scattered rolls
of hay, an ancient
cathedral tower.
French students
smile, shout. 
They must have lived
for thirteen years--
In their voices,
such wild joy.
I am sad to hear it.
They laugh together,
beautiful, young.
(We pass another
cathedral tower).
The children practice
English: I love you, but...
one day...a boy says
and a girl mimics him,
giggling. Others
repeat: I love you, but...
one day...They laugh
until their bodies shake.
I see no people outside 
for hours. Only a solitary
man, bald-headed
like my father, leans
shirtless over blades
of grass. He must be
far away from home.
Then dancing sheep
and goats and purple
flowers. More youthful
laughter: I love you, but...
one day...My strange
familiar grief,
and still another old
cathedral tower.

First Words  ☊

The same way at five I stared from the tub
into my father’s terrified eyes after he broke
the bathroom door to save me because I hadn’t
heard his calls and as he shook my body
to bring me back to life I laughed and told him
I didn’t drown, the soap bubbles only filled my ears--
The same way at eight I looked into his gasping face
after he leapt from a moving car because I lay
sprawled on the grass by an upside-down bicycle
and as he lifted me with shaking arms I said I hadn’t
fallen but was writing a poem about how the clouds
were really cotton candy—The same way
at sixteen I crashed my car into a street light
and fainted on the hardware store floor, then woke
to see him gazing blankly at me from the doorway
too frightened to remember the name
of my hospital so I said it for him—The same way
in my twenties I regained consciousness
after a six and a half day coma because I jumped
in front of a train I was so surprised to recognize
my pale-cheeked father waiting like a marble statue
by my side when we rarely talked and he lived
in a distant city that I spoke my first words
even though doctors had said if I survived
I would never recover language: Hi Dad. 

2 A.M.

I heard terrorists
will destroy whole cities
this country itself
now I can’t sleep
I hide under thick blankets
arms around knees
I want you
to make pancakes
I want to see
eggs break
I want to watch you
stir and flip again again
I will eat and eat them
soft and swinging
as spring sun
your stomach beneath
the ribs when
I breathe your skin
hot syrup on my
lips and chin I will
cover them with sliced
bananas I will eat
and eat them
in the cold black night
thinking cream yellow
summer beaches I will
lick our plates and
drink from the silver
mixing bowl until
sweet batter drips
down my face
I won’t be afraid
oh please
I want you to

Picture



​Amy Billone's
 Profile

Up the Mountain

a group of cows
bending down to eat
grass and flowers
shakes bells
the most enormous
lifts her head
and looks at me
the path leads
right beside her
a metal hook
on the wood door
she looks at me
I walk quickly
eyes low
shoulders heavy
a crooked screech
the opening gate
her shifting tail
and moving mouth
the sweet wind
my blowing hair
as in the city for no
reason I'm afraid
she looks at me
she looks at me
​

End of Summer

I have a mind that glistensglares
I have a mind that cartwheelsspins
IhaveaIhaveaIhave a mind
that stuttersstumbling
but whirlwinding gathers speed
this mind reachesforyou wanting
this mind whispers to youbeckoning
this mind longs for you to
seeme knowme touchme
I have a mind that yearns for
yoursoftskin youreyelashes
yourhands in my hair
I have a mind that pleadsfor
forgiveness oh suffering
I have a mind thatoverflows 
my body can’t contain it
I sit still I go nowhere
I do nothing birdssweetlychatter
green leaves rise and dip
this sun is relentless
these fragrant houses
safeandyellow with porch
swings and lavenderflowers
I have a mind that behind
my scarred head
trainrumblesbreathlessly
it is hot summer the glittering river
waits for me mymindthismind
I have a I haveaI havea mind oh so
many turning bells and joltingwonders
what will I be and become 

Suddenly I Remember

One day David whispered
Can I tell you a secret?
 
This was at recess by
Lincoln School’s white
 
brick wall.  Because it was
his cousin Justin I loved
 
I hoped I would hear
Justin still slept with my picture
 
under his pillow (once
Justin embraced me far
 
beneath the swimming
pool surface; once he held
 
my hand at the planetarium
beneath a black sky of
 
artificial stars). A week
before, I’d seen tears
 
on Justin’s face when I cut
off my hair to look like
 
a boy, and he said
he no longer liked me. 
 
But instead, without
speaking, David kissed
 
me inside
my shivering ear.


Picture

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