Monday, October 19, 2015

from something 2

Write one word she said
one letter the tip of one
urgent architecture of our secretest

matter I’ll never tell you what it was
silk dress sequins and a glass of water
she meant the rooms of the party

teach me to do what you make me do    RK
clarified her going room made from room
wise with what people say

convince me of my omnipotence
like a new-born prism turns her back to the sun
pretending table out of circumflex wood

her rosary was live, the way you know
carnelian bead at the center of me
feel of fingers, being so many it must be one

she said now identify what fruit this is
but there were none 
just the feeling instruments

I was the water in her clepsydra
the old nun counting in the coffee-maker
burning me as I rushed through her hands.


*

No comments:

Post a Comment