by Toni La Ree Bennett
I feel like an autumn leaf, aged around the edges.
As I trundle back from the MRI, a crow bursts
out of the hedge like a shot.
After I get home, I look in the mirror.
My foolish body, is it shaking
with laughter or sobbing? I can’t tell
from this angle. All I know
for sure is yesterday an enlightened elm loosed
rubied leaves at my feet.
Toni La Ree Bennett is both a photographer and a writer. She attended the University of Washington where she received a Ph.D. in English and a Certificate in Photography. Verbal work has appeared in Stoneboat, Circle Show, Gold Man Review, Gravel, Hawaii Pacific Review, december, and Memoir, among other publications. Solar Subjugation, a poetry chapbook, will be published February 2019 by Finishing Line Press. Visual work has appeared in WomenArts Quarterly (cover), Cimarron Review (cover), The Nassau Review (cover), Rappahannock Review, Glassworks, Gravel, and The Grief Diaries. She lives in Seattle with a flock of feisty finches. Website: tonibennett.com