Wednesday, February 27, 2013

Wednesday Poem - better late than never...

Blow - Anna Camilleri

She calls me
i see fine china
ankles screaming for breeze
somewhere I've never been.

darling you      to be exact
she remakes the word
profane and delicate
             against her landscape
her lips snapdragons
             in bloom

i am wheat
bending to her pause
wind blown
shoulders drop
hers or mine?
even snapdragons need rest
all this talk
is tiresome

i understand.
you split me
            in a breath

there is a place on her body
between steel eyes and swell of breasts
this place
             this perfect place
i am seeing just now
             for the first time
her collarbone a cup
full flowing

i imagine her breath
              curled there
under skin bone muscle
like a snake
ready to leap forward
rise up
fill          me

i remember being a girl
young Catholic girl
quiet maltese-Italian girl
big hair, eyes like stars
standing at the altar
              the precipice
walking the long stretch of a moment
perfectly still angel
              open mouthed bride
two seconds passed maybe three
the priest whispered
               body and blood of Christ
his eyes mournful, cavernous
arm outstretched like a spoke
the water wheel dangling

i did not scratch my bum
but I thought about it -
about our terrible dresses
his ominous gown,
my scratchy polyester
about the nauseating swell
that danced in my stomach
at the sight, smell of meat
how I pushed it to the edge of my plate,
banished it from my universe
but it did not go away,
I had to eat it
it cost money:
               blood, sweat, tears, years, youth
this is bread I told myself
this is bread -
not blood, not body, not jesus
inhale        hold it
pretend I'm underwater
close my eyes

I held my breath and counted for twenty years.
waited patiently for the other shoe to drop,
only half believing it ever would.

waited for a window to open
for my throat to loosen
for fresh air
a change of air
a disaster
a miracle

all of this happened -
a symphony of chaos,
the harmonics of life
spilled over

ankles scream for breeze
wind blown
this perfect place
the long stretch of this moment

between steel eyes and the swell of breasts
her lips snapdragons in bloom
she remakes the word
profane and delicate

two seconds pass
             maybe three
her breath
             curls there
dances in my stomach
a symphony of chaos
she calls me
in a breath
i fall

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