The Cento: A Collection of Collage Poems

Caught by the Light: A Cento

160 kAren lewIs Caught by the Light: A Cento Hello, hello. One woman leads to another, the chandeliers aren’t talking. Who sends us these messages, oblique and muffled, for those who listen with their eyes, tell me what it is for? Confess: it’s my profession. The words I clench— words fertilize each other, language of the roots of rushes tangled, mouth full of juicy adjectives. I am amazed. I am snow and space, pathways. We follow you scattering floral tributes, we are learning to make fire (tanuluk tuzet rakni), magic. 161 There is not much time and time is not fast enough for us any more, traffic shifts back. If we make stories for each other, you make them new each time, you trying to think of something you haven’t said, making use of what there is. We need each others’ breathing, warmth, surviving, is the only war we can afford. Call it Please. Call it Mercy, of ink, twisting out into the clearness. The steel question— mark turns and opens, where do the words go? What can I give her? Years ago you were caught by the light, cut out of magazines in another land. It would be so good if you’d believe, 162 the publicity. The relationship is symbiotic, indispensable. At the last judgment we will all be trees. ...