Cells (i) | Chris Jones

The ultrasound gleans
rib-light and coral fingers;
your heart a quick fish.

Dewfall, a morning
of webs quivering clotheslines:
late summer longhand.

Swifts shape a fly-by,
their high, riotous piercings,
and one year’s shot past.

From Chris Jones’s new full-length collection Skin (out now from Longbarrow Press). Visit the Skin microsite for more details about the book. Listen to Chris Jones read the last poem in this haiku sequence:

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