Marimba
If nymphs on enoki
and snails with toes
If dwellers in glass houses
if these stones stay silent
If ichor droplets
the size of hamsters
If two birds in the sky
see one in a hand
If the earth crumbles
between your fingers
If life hands you lemurs
or you smell truffles
If you could
choose your own trance
Ukulele
A tickle, wrapped in a parody,
inside a chinchilla.
Flaps here is a flea.
Lament of the primeval,
by the peashooter,
for the free gull.
I have a stream.
But I didn’t email.
School me, balmy charm.
For sure, and Kevin hears a goat.
Viola
In the shadows
a pearl glows
a mourning dove
I spread my wings
and sing the still small
lung awake
though no one
knows my name
✰
Angeline Schellenberg is the author of the Manitoba Book Award-winning Tell Them It Was Mozart (Brick, 2016) and the KOBZAR Book Award-nominated Fields of Light and Stone (UAP, 2020). Her micro-fiction has appeared recently in Fewer Than 500, Café Lit, and The Drabble. She hosts Speaking Crow, the longest-running poetry open-mic in Winnipeg, Canada.
aglimpseof.net 