Prelude, by Camille Martin

Earth beckons rain and grape, grape
tugs the sun that makes it ripen.
Screen—stretched across a door frame

or painted with peacocks and towering
waterfalls—keeps moths from flame,
flame from extinguishing gaze.

Untranslatable, trading yellow
crayons for leaves. Undeterred,
every leaf shades us.

Camille Martin (Photo: Cameron Ogilvie) is the author of four collections of poetry: Looms (Shearsman Books, forthcoming in 2012), Sonnets (Shearsman Books 2010), Codes of Public Sleep (BookThug, 2007), and Sesame Kiosk (Potes & Poets, 2001). She has performed her poetry in over twenty-five cities in the United States, Canada, Ireland, the United Kingdom, and France.


Martin holds an MFA in Poetry from the University of New Orleans and a PhD from Louisiana State University. She has lived in Toronto since 2005. Her virtual homes are www.RogueEmbryo.com and www.CamilleMartin.ca.