by Elizabeth Rae Bullmer
When the mood shifts from chai latte to single malt scotch,
barometric pressure drops like a bass note beat
and lighting dims dusky pre-storm green,
hips slow-motion gyrate in slim ellipse,
femur surface-skims the hollow
palm of acetabulum;
skin lifts in anticipation,
breath caught in the wet curve
of pharynx, ready to resonate as lips unfurl.
Even the evening birds have ceased their somber songs.
And a hundred million miles away, a red-eyed sun winks
playfully—apostrophe-shaped shadows slung everywhere.
About the Author:
Elizabeth Rae Bullmer started writing at seven-years-old. This poetry explores the physio-mythic: what it is to live in a body defined by human story. Bullmer’s work appears in numerous journals and two chapbooks. 2025’s winner of the Heartwood Poetry Prize and Best of the Net nominee, Bullmer is also a workshop facilitator, licensed massage/sound therapist, and the mother of two phenomenal humans, living with three fantastic felines in Kalamazoo. She can be reached at https://www.facebook.com/elizabeth.bullmer/ or https://elizabethbullmer.wordpress.com/