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Prairie Schooner 78.4 (2004) 179-180



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Two Poems

Stick of Light

I looked for a stick of light that could pierce my heart-
maybe the spine of a young tree that I'd strip
of hair and branches. Maybe a flower blade,
its petal a bit of flesh glorified, a boat
dragged by light's undertow. Though no one can hold
such a stick, and no one can aim it at her own
heart, or die with light singeing her hands. But only
fall and breathe ashes, only dig again
in the silky roots and hope for the mocking flower-
heads to return, green horns first, then the buds
sealed and beating, as I circle like a wasp wearing
my one thorn, stabbing at air, wanting a splinter
of light for my heart, hot and blue - sliver,
spear, pin - because it's time now to draw blood.


Blue Duck

The duck's head is so blue rising out of
its black neck - as though something's
hidden in its night-head deeper than the worm
of its mind. Of all the doors to walk through,
or dive through, it's this one, this pure center
of water circling and ringing where its beak
siphons and its body twists to find green
bread; duck of right-now passing along [End Page 179]
the canal saying there's another door
altogether, a vastness to step into,
try to see yourself there, as if your heart
wore these deep blue feathers, as if
it pumped out its blood
into that white, opening sky.
Anne Marie Macari's first book, Ivory Cradle (Alice James), won the America Poetry Review/Honickman First Book Prize in 2000.


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