by Elizabeth Rees Issue: Spring/Summer 2019

People are dying, right

and left. Every hour, bodies

dance with antibodies

and finish the set  

or don’t, turning

this season of fevers

into a calendar

of cells.


The trees, the mountains

unseen but involved  

know contagion

begins as a kiss —

chlorophyll, an embrace

of beaded greens

that sparks a clique

of lilies wilting


into shadows

of the willow

who weeps

for dogwoods


their petals

before they collapse.

Elizabeth Rees

Elizabeth Rees is the author of Every Root a Branch, and four chapbooks. Her poetry has been widely published in such journals as Agni, The Southern Review, Barrow Street Review and Kenyon Review. She was a 2018 finalist for Nimrod’s Pablo Neruda Prize.