Taking on the Local Color: Poems

Waking

Waking Her waking is a release of stairs, a mint, a mosquito. Rising from the sheets a coolness reinvents her feet. Each hand comes to rest beside a bare thigh. A revolver of dreams fires somewhere—where will she go? To Spring, a new hairline, the mirror spangling the floor? She coughs touching one knee to the other, notices the fingers of her left hand, her body severing itself brilliantly from the night. In the end it is a slight shaking, a blue ashtray, a torso of old habits. In the end it is a theater of sensations to which she lies back in the dark. 45 Waking Her waking is a release of stairs, a mint, a mosquito. Rising from the sheets a coolness reinvents her feet. Each hand comes to rest beside a bare thigh. A revolver of dreams fires somewhere-where will she go? To Spring, a new hairline, the mirror spangling the floor? She coughs touching one knee to the other, notices the fingers of her left hand, her body severing itself brilliantly from the night. In the end it is a slight shaking, a blue ashtray, a torso of old habits. In the end it is a theater of sensations to which she lies back in the dark. 45 They said she wore a serviceable enigma every morning. From one eye to another became a distance. At each elbow a dream poised. As she walked home one lion wept stones to another: a rendering of fatigue. They said from her trousers she pulled an archipelago, a river, her hand; in the twilight they said they said they said nothing new that was under the sun. 46 They said she wore a serviceable enigma every morning. From one eye to another became a distance. At each elbow a dream poised. As she walked home one lion wept stones to another: a rendering of fatigue. They said from her trousers she pulled an archipelago, a river, her hand; in the twilight they said they said they said nothing new that was under the sun. So much redness gives the strawberries teeth. So much height turns the plants into pedants without shoes. She decides to subdue the corners being more at ease, like you, with the inanimate. Why, she wonders, does one laugh as it falls to its knees? Later the mirror tells all—oh! even the corner has left its fierce anemone on her neck. 47 So much redness gives the strawberries teeth. So much height turns the plants into pedants without shoes. She decides to subdue the corners being more at ease, like you, with the inanimate. Why, she wonders, does one laugh as it falls to its knees? Later the mirror tells all-oh! even the corner has left its fierce anemone on her neck. 47 ...