looking backI knew you onceAs I once knew innocenceA childhood love lostLike baby teeth
RescueKnives are meant to go inYou saySharp words formed perfectlyCut from your tongue and teeth asThey snapClosed on my impulseI always reach for the luresYou dangleAs you fish for my reactionI am caught up in your hooksAm trappedBy all your jagged edgesAt the thought of falling graceYou laughAnd grate my kindness awayInto scattered fragments whileI attemptTo hoard disappearing timeWith stings and barbs preparedYou witnessMy distraction and are readyTo mock my rescue missions asI struggleWith all these broken wordsIf I want to save peopleYou suggestIt is better to be a fire fighterBecause then I will know whenPeople wantTo save endangered love
Still LifeAs a child I studiedThe lift of the armAbove the headThe alignment of elbow and scalpThe set of the shouldersAs the arm liftedWhere the knees line upThe puzzle box bendingWhen folded against the chestThe legs crossed at the kneeFolded Indian positionStretched out in frontI learned to traceThe movement of the spineThe neck and the skullAs they moved and shiftedI traced people on the pageAttempted to draw humanLike the image on the pageI imitate lifeTry to draw it to myselfHolding myself just soI stand next to humansDrawn incorrectly
River SongThey are dredging the river,Bringing up all the sunken things,Stirring the lid to the river's hidden treasures:The shit, and muck, and corpses.The river flows swiftly between the banks,The artificial shores of concrete and bouldersIn the city where you fell.Down stream the river widens,The shores are gentle slopesTilting softly toward the edgeWhere a sudden drop plungesEarth into water the color of mud.Trees bend over it, shading the waterLike some idealized painting, pastoral,Pastel: ignoring the under tow,The snags hidden by water,The places where children drown.They are searching for you,The men in the boats, the wet suits,Dragging their ropes along the river's bottom.They search the known placesThe up swells, the catch alls, the placesWhere the river surrenders unwanted things.But the river will keep you, has acceptedWhat you mistakenly offered,Embraced you and filled you with itself;It will hold you long after we forget you.
At a Field in EnnaThe ground broke openThe ground swallowed me becauseI took the appleAnd the pomegranate seedsAnd I ate themAnd into the dark I tumbledWith their sweet juices stillTrembling on my tongueOr was it the marigoldsThe begonias, hyacinths, hydrangeasSnapdragons, peonies, lobelia, allTempting me, their facesTurned toward the sunWhile under the earthTheir roots stretched deepCalled out to emptinessThe darkness, blackAnd echoing, empty of meaningThe dark places resonateFree from light, from sound, from memoryBut filled with this taste and scentThe sweet apple, tart and sharpThe seed, a forgotten promiseThe smell of flowers, overpowering