Sunday, September 18, 2011

in that bed with Dena

There where you stir the sugar insufferable,
incessant, you stir it.  Hard crystals dissolve,
handfuls of blazing white go milky and soft,
hot blue lips lovingly kiss and sing radiantly under
your copper.   Your ping hammered kettle turns solid
to liquid.  Melting chains form as you work
the Rosary {Sotto Voce} Queen of Heaven
The Mysteries                            Joy & Pain        
                        slowly added,
washing down gems, precious blessings
And the turmoil slows, bubbles slack and link,
dragging like school-less summer days, shoe-less
in hot amber.  Sticking all the little tics,
once thrown high as branches,     hair whips
               rain sheets and lung-lust cries,     
                        click clipped as
                   errant bugs and bees.

You are on the fault line.           Plates are shifting.
Under the sweet bunch grass, a Vireo gray and small,
secretive you whistle          then listen.
The colors change        The desert painted
               Tongues of flame
    waver in your wild white eyes:

                    You hold
                        Waiting waiting

                   Pinching the grain
                       The salt
                   The pink rose
                   The tiny blade
                       The straw
              The stone
                               You drop

1 comment:

  1. A poem I wrote for Dena Rash Guzman a few years back in the MySpace days, when she dropped off the scene in one of her many online persona reassignments.
    The original post was a series of short lines of three or four words.
    I'm not totally happy with the reformatting here and I still feel that I'm in an editing phase on this one. I generally don't like busy formats (and most definitely don't like parentheses, haha!). I feel that the words should speak on their own without any funny business. So, any input on that would be helpful. Thanks!