Tuesday, April 9, 2013

April 8th Kristin


Poem From Behind Mask of a Small, Black Blot


The orchard marks my gyral sense of closure
the slow and aching fruit, the wind
blood eyed, extended, crawling away from me

How should it feel to be gnawed out and filthy
left in all that trash, legs crossed over and bleached
white from the sun

What moment of stinging do you wish me [decades from now]
to hold dear

You move away from the gulls, guiding
me toward the hellish blare of waves

[the white pulp of stars above]

See the rising up and teeth clash of the waves
a devouring of yourself
again and again

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