Spring 2017, Volume 22

Poetry by Cameron Alexander Lawrence

Crystal Ball

Then, full of smoke, I
wondered how it would feel

to live as a crystal ball,
so I stripped off my clothes

and invited the world
to look into me. Everyone

came—my mother and father,
friends and strangers,

all wanting to warm a vision
of themselves, touching

the dark roots of my hair,
tracing the blue rivers

in my body. But there
was no future to read,

no past—only the pale fruit
of the present turning red

with each abrasion of inquiry.
So I covered myself again,

and nursing my bruises,
retreated into a quiet

distance, where I can see
the small brilliances of the living

rooms and bedrooms,
the headlights pushing back

against the night. Look,
you can see everything

out here. I promise,
you can see for miles.




BIO: Cameron Alexander Lawrence is a graduate of the University of Arizona and lives in Decatur, GA, with his wife and three daughters. His poems have appeared or are forthcoming in West Branch, Forklift, Ohio, Whiskey Island, Image, Pittsburgh Poetry Review, Asheville Poetry Review, and elsewhere.