Hot Metal Bridge

Current Issue : Number Twenty-Five

The Incremental State

BY HILLARY GRAVENDYK

In California, winters are pleated
In the afternoon a gilded light tilts
Suns in the bellies of spoons
Tricorne leaves adhere then lift against opacity
A grass-gold corona, gold behind and through
 
In a sitting room in California cold light pushes the golden.
A painted ceiling works like a painted tree
Leafing and stoked with gold
In bleakness post-carded with citrus
Melted light running in long channels under floorboards & globed greens.
Goldness that could fill a lung.
 
California in particles sifted out of pans and blown
Into stiff blue air, sharp with golden barbs
In an eye full of blinking shards
Thrust into a photograph, gold and gray on a yellow wall
In a room nearly full of objects
In the shape of afternoons
Amber light as soft as money is



Hillary Gravendyk currently teaches at Pomona College in Claremont, California. Her chapbook, The Naturalist, was published by Achiote Press in 2008. Her poetry has been published widely in journals such as American Letters & Commentary, The Colorado Review, 1913, and many others.