I’m no window
but I do allow light
to pass through
this glassed body
a shining target for stones
to ping spiderwebs
splintering the surface
but only to almost broken
clinging to whole
letting cold in
where the heart pulses innocent
of streamed heat
Corn bread’s in the oven
and yes I ground the seed myself,
absent of nuance
because what’s mundane feeds
and if this is my mask, it was not made
but found; ring-bound features freed
by flint, the way my kin carved spirit masks
from living wood, not cut from the tree
until fully shaped.
The art and the worship of it
was seeing the healing beneath bark
and breaking it out.
If my voice is dark
if my voice is menstrual
remember there is power inside blood
which is why the orthodox won’t taste it
even as it feeds nightmares, and
if I name goddesses
I remember gods too, and that moon
is not so much female as she is awe–
that trapped asteroid
is the closest most get to what’s bigger;
some of us have stood there, hungry
on the surface of that tide-pulling
can’t-nourish-anything stone.
Some early mornings hit deep in the plexus. I’d say solar plexus, but I am moonblind.
el(lips)es
yours/mine
parenthetic
punctuated kiss
that trails and stretches want to
…
or maybe
after all !
that curve into each other almost
of spooning
((
))
into the . sleep
unfairly, the adverb
carries responsibility
for laxity in poetry
as if every -ly lazily falls into
a slot active language deserves
but
isn’t all language live
and if
I don’t use these tools
properly
writing a poem
will seem
like building a house
hammerless
and using a shoe for the job
snow strikes snow
with the kiss of butterfly wings
or the sound leaves make
spiraled from the maple–
sighed echoes of other seasons
set gently in ice
And here she is, courtesy of Paula Acton–looks like we all love that raw female power… These all rock!
(Written in response to Susan Daniels poem which you can read here Skank/Goddess (not a nice girl) I don’t normally write in response to other peoples posts but the image she created has stayed with me all day demanding my attention so I hope Susan like this)
Warrior queen from another life,
Her Chevy chariot responding,
Horse power controlled
By stiletto heel.
Tribal markings delineate
The path she should but
Could not tread.
Fuelled by vengeance for
for one final time.
Talons claw through hide
As she swerves increasing speed.
Her wrath demands satisfaction
For the insult she percieves.
A heart that offered so much
Now sacrificed for uncaring gods.
From ancient lore she now
Takes her lead.
An eye for an eye
Heart for a heart
The ritual offering imbibed
For strength.
Numbs the mind and
Steadys the hand.
And as she looks down
Upon her fallen foe
He…
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Susan Daniels Poetry 