Thursday, March 26, 2009

Six Fires- previously published by Flutter Poetry Journal

Six Fires

If I had one name
to call you before
the sun shatters;

Through the ten thousand vaginas
that bore me light;

And where water and water
both wash your confident flesh
and the tattooed curve of your tongue;

until I write your body
only with these peasant hands
that once loved soil and rock
and now rain

like a jasmine swan
like a heart never silent
like fists with green knuckles
mountaining everything between
my horizons and my mirrors.

When held still too long, without
worlds crumble sandy,
cloy our mouths,
but engulfed in your movement,
skirt and wind and metallic German tongue,
I grow unfamiliar
and drop,
from the thawing roof.

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