Coralbone Bloom

1 Minute Read Time

This photograph shows a beige paper lantern being ready to head into the sky, where many other paper lanterns can be seen. — Photo by Leon Contreras on Unsplash

after necklace sculptures by Mariko Kusumoto

You, perfect	      but blank.
A dress form, beige, standard.

Until you erupt. Springtime underwater. 
Gauze tendrils, growth in radial symmetry.

Paper lanterns inflate on your décolletage, 
gentle as mushrooms after rain.

Though you are not lit up, you feel buoyant, 
worthy of silk and chiffon. Worthy of your seat 
on the train, your place in the universe.

Everyone will want to reach out and touch you 
but you are too fragile to be that kind of girl.

Natalie Homer

is the author of the poetry collection Under the Broom Tree (Autumn House Press, 2021), and of a chapbook, Attic of the Skull (dancing girl press, 2018). Her poetry has been published in American Literary Review, Puerto del Sol, The Cincinnati Review, Meridian, The Journal, Blue Earth Review, The Pinch, The Lascaux Review, Ruminate, The Minnesota Review, Salamander, and others. She earned an MFA from West Virginia University and lives in southwestern Pennsylvania. She loves cats, rainy days, memes, and Wayne Thiebaud paintings.

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