Cindy Ellen Hill
Suspended
to a homeless man in Burlington, Vermont
Floating vertically above the frozen ground
his worn-out sleeping bag forms an eggshell
so fragile, everybody walks around
afraid to touch, to break, keeping hands well
gloved inside pockets, keeping fingers warm,
blocking the thought of how much like a cell
he looks: Suspended, embryonic form,
apparent only when the sun is low,
gold light side-shining through its pulsing storm.
apparent only when the sun is low,
gold light side-shining through its pulsing storm.
Averted eyes will never see below
the smooth blank surface of that ivory case.
Like Homer, stuck forever in limbo,
the smooth blank surface of that ivory case.
Like Homer, stuck forever in limbo,
he sleeps in his socially prescribed place
unless, lungs filled with icy yolk, he drowns.
unless, lungs filled with icy yolk, he drowns.
Cindy Ellen Hill is a writer, musician and gardener in Middlebury, Vermont. She has authored two sonnet chapbooks, Wild Earth (Antrim Press 2021) and Elegy for the Trees (Kelsay Books 2022). Her poetry has been published in Measure, The Lyric, Vermont Magazine, PanGaia, Sagewoman, WildEarth, Vermont Life, the Classical Poets Society, Ancient Paths, and the National Public Radio Themes and Variations program. She is presently an MFA student at the Vermont College of Fine Arts.
