All posts by Leslie Dianne

Leslie Dianne is a poet, novelist, screenwriter, playwright and performer whose work has been acclaimed internationally in places such as the Harrogate Fringe Festival in Great Britain, The International Arts Festival in Tuscany, Italy and at La Mama in New York City. Her stage plays have been produced in NYC at The American Theater of Actors, The Raw Space, The Puerto Rican Traveling Theater and The Lamb’s Theater. She holds a BA in French Literature from CUNY and her poems have appeared in Noctivant Press, The Wild Word, Trouvaille Review, Flashes, Sparks of Calliope, and The Elevation Review and are forthcoming in Sanjoko and The Bluebird Word. Her poetry was recently nominated for a Pushcart Prize.

School by Leslie Dianne


To understand the ocean
I would have to lie
on the sand and
let it scratch my skin
until it was smooth
then I would bury my arms
and let the sandweight
take my bones and
knit my flesh to itself
my legs would grow holes
and turn inside out
my chest would sink in
to the deep moist layer
where treasures are kept
my ears would dissolve
and say hello to my eyes
my nose, curious at the change
would scent danger
then wonder when
the fog would come
from across the world
when the tides would visit
and offer me to the moon
when I would wash from the shore
blink with my big new eyes
at the waves
my tender gills
learning to breathe
once more
a creature
in a new kind of school


Image Credit: Surreal image [by B. Samms and is kindly reproduced here with permission of Art and Frame Source]