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.

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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/