Allison deFreese

Signs

To Sarika after Bashō and Bly

You ignite air

when signing,

when palmar bumps palm,

when the thumb

skips pebbles over the index

in the dry silence

where words round

or fold then splay.

Your hands are origami.

Paper boats and cranes float

off the fingers,

take flight over water.

The temple bells have stopped

ringing

but the sound keeps coming

out of the flowers.

Allison A. deFreese grew up on a pig farm. She raised ducks and chickens and had over thirty cats. She learned to impersonate birds and kittens, which brought mother cats running from their secret summer nests so she could find their kitties. She placed in a state writing contest before dropping out of the sixth grade. She has no high school credits to her name but has taught in high schools—where students in such places are still planning their escape.

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