Sunday, May 1, 2011

How a Woman Can Be Frozen

My shadow has been swallowed cold
down the throat of this dark-winged

Stone silent fucker
unconsciously wrapped his fingers
insistent as any Tuesday
in the saffron ropes of my hair

kissed me like poets do
with kisses  of jasmine
and sorrow

Begin by putting ice in her mouth
the tongue grows still and her
words fall like rain    wash away

Set chill stones under her feet
flagstones of an ancient temple
then pull them away   very fast

Leave her no bath but the remnants
of uncontained green seas

The sticky wrappings of my feet
in their perfume
of aloes and alum and dusty pain 
are crushed
by the weight
of your last whisper:

I’m gone

There is a black swan
in the pond at the park
She refuses to mate

Did you know swans mate for life?

Some think it was the fireworks
that scared her
or scarred her

My eyes bleed ink His
are the still topaz of arctic ice

My voice is a pinprick of bells
easy to ignore at midnight

Once there was a golden ball
in the sky
under that moon
a two-for-one
a smaller moon
or a satellite
coldly revolving

in a neglected orbit

Have you noticed that the moon
is always full here? It never sets

Place one last hard word
in her mouth
to silence her

Wrap her in passionless sheets
until all the fever has left her veins

This poem originally appeared in The Centrifugal Eye April/May 2011 issue.

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