Along hairline
Gargoyle
Gypsum vertebrae
Basalt backbone
Cobble belly
Heels of pumice
Breast marble
Neck flint
Even blue bells between
Turn schist
No more fragility of aspens
Or golden staircases
I sprout baleen
To make ribbing
Stay corsets
I am Jaw line finally
Translated to jet—
Yet still you come
Begging hair
Still I purge
Heavy confluence
And you swim up
Swollen-whaled breathy
Pulling the roots of my home
1 comment:
i have read this several times, and each time i reach the last few lines, finishing the poem i am perplexed, and satisfied at once. how could i not be, having purged heavy confluence. i do not mean to make light, this was the cumulative apex for me as i read it.
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