Licton Springs Review

An Attempt to Become What I Love By Vanessa Pepoy

This alpine lake revolves
toward morning’s sun
like a baby turns her head
toward mother’s voice
to nuzzle contentedly for a nipple.
The shrubby alder next to me
the rock I perch on
we are all painted with this light.
Before weaving my hair into a braid
my combing fingers shed a few strands.
As I wiggle my fingers, hairs drop
to trail from a huckleberry branch
like stray spider web
for a bird to weave into her nest.