Issue 2: Confession Vs. Mask
A Publication of the USF MFA in Writing Program

[a line of doubt]

Carla Hall Belmonte

A line of doubt seesaws crunched lip,
Orange melancholia rip.

If I could peel dark, say it is here it is so like this.
I will write unsurely this that writes me.

Now the foghorn belches out worlds.
You unreel beyond unreal cliffs, you that sighs evenly.

White orchids are belles, thinking I love you, dragging.
A truly cradled heart lies across salt and fear.

Maybe I've learned to breathe wildly, thinly, in in audibly.
If now imagination spreads and coagulates

What I learned was not true!
That long walk down C— beach, the sand gritted, soaked in.

What vain service! Past does not help,
Shouts the sun's blue curve.

But the adverb explains a doubt fairly well;
The gender always tells, fish scales singing.

Retold reference to intimacy, a fonder point.
We are slick with words, sick, sometimes clever,

empty, mostly shy. Fact says learned is her reply.
Amphibians glow with finite oxygen --

Luminescent, thoughtless, the bearers of volumes
Yank, friend! What is no, blue eyes, then yes, then...

Have I failed?

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