Friday, March 12, 2010

poems

Andrew Borstrom and I used to write one poem per week. For this one we used two images. I will show but one.



“The Covering of Fall or The Woman at the Wheel”

Look out into the pitch-black sea. Let the aphotic ball reveal her past.

What do you see in that onyx eye?

Something jutting up from the red desert sand: desiccated brown hide shriveled and peeled back from the bleached-white bones.

Look again into the pitch-black sea. Let the sunless ball reveal her present.

What do you see in that onyx eye?

Something hanging from the barren tree: half-skinned deer revealing tendons taut and percolating red from the slitted throat.

Look deeper into the pitch-black sea. Let the lightless ball reveal her future.

What do you see in that onyx eye?

Death at the spinning wheel made from her own rib cage: the silver silk torn from her head and gray-like white covering falls to the floor.

Now look deeper than deep into the blue-green sea. Let the shimmering ball reveal everything.

What do you see in that vibrant eye?

Underneath the blue and green: a silver thread that shines and sheens but only hints at what it means:

A sliver lodged underneath a fingernail

A cocklebur stuck on a puppy dog’s tail

A cough after the bestowal of a kiss

A blown out candle granting the child’s wish

A graveyard mound by a school playground

A moon trailing the sun round and round

A blizzard in the middle of May blots out the sun and leaves everything gray

“Please Mommy can I go outside and play.”

“No child. Stay inside,” says mother. “Just for today. Just for today.

I need you near me.”

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