Author: Lisa Marie

Air

In the smudged silos,
a slipshod grain hungry and unfilling.

The fields here do not even
feed their own.

On the crotchety mountain,
emigres weave stories of
the old cruelty of the thin, dry air,
new cruelty of elevated antiseptic oxygen.

Between a one and a two,
a child is born with four feet.

The cry of a lone lantern in
the nefarious night.

What She Takes

Behind fire,
Sweating desire.

I am a museum of makeup,
the art of the feminine,
the vision of seduction.

By my entrance,
no angel of any kind,
my soul in sackcloth.

Imperfection entrances,
greed entrenched.
She has feasted on the slick sheen
of my alabaster skin for hours.
Having had the skin,
now she will take the fat,
and together we will leave the bone.

Careless Skin, Uncivil Eyes

My hair is easy to please –

Satiated with soft careless skin

And uncivil eyes.

 

The ships on the river

Corrected correction.

 

Love goes with you.

 

Your hands glaze me with pride,

a good disease.

Your teeth write me in anger ­­-

 

Your kiss a knife in another dialect.

In the river,

The dead wash themselves among the stones.

 

Your pretty lips alight on my breasts

 

Your hand is on my belly,

taking my soul away.

 

Between the rippling river reeds,

A timeless photograph

of vice and virtue.