Mine Na 12.

Night of Plight

 

In September’s chambers
Where I stretch out
Cry out
Choke on life’s droplets
Feel the stabs across my chest
Of unquiet love, burned down to sorrow’s howl

Search for reasons in piled books
To be pulled up by fish hooks
Reclaim the joucned amygdala

But Lowell’s ungoverned course
Clings like black iron to my knife

I’m to blame
I sent the invite
And they dance around me
But never kindly touch me
They use magnets to pull from me
What they want
To spin it for their own glory dust
But tonight my back is turned
From these warm hosts
To lay once more with my little ghost

Photograph: Francesca Woodman   I could no longer play

Poem: Naomi Ruth Waldschmidt

Advertisements
Standard