Alexis Almeida


Process Music



Stretched thin in the morning


Outer lip pressed on


Lightly and outside yes there are trees 


And light is moving along the floor


When I think about winter sounds come


Bounding out in raw flakes afraid


Retracting their song into syllabic


Foam there’s your poem someone says


And I remember that walking in this city


Where I don’t know myself


Quite without you


All the buildings are turning red


Strange to think we are both 


On either side of the wall


And the trees are still there 


Just now the air did something


I could understand so my friend


Leaves and returns so easily


Pulling on my jacket she says look


As two women standing side by side name


The color of every passing car in strange voices


Laughing hysterically they slightly delay


The passage of crowds


ALEXIS ALMEIDA  grew up in Chicago. Her recent work has appeared or is forthcoming in Prelude, Pinwheel, Gulf Coast, Action Yes, Flag + Void, and elsewhere. She is a contributing editor at The Elephants and an assistant editor at Asymptote. Her translation of Florencia Castellano's Propiedades vigiladas is recently out from Ugly Ducking Presse. She is currently living in Buenos Aires, where she has been reading and translating contemporary poetry written by women. 

alexis almeida