Sunday, March 15, 2009

Pieces of 7 Mondays

From Volume Twelve (2006):


tell me again of the woman
who spoke fire, leaning forward
so that you could hear the way
her voice slipped from rich vowels
to helpless disconnected words, drowning
every pause significant
even the silence burned
like the orange glow of the lamp
curling up her throat and across her cheeks
disappearing into the dark shadows of eyes
sparkling off her teeth

tell me again of the way she speaks
a word - and sparks scatter across the floor
singeing the carpet and unprotected toes
burning hairs so they shine like hot wires
branding ears and shoulders
while her short dark hair falls over her forehead
wrapping about her
the dark shadow, glowing
until walking outside when she is finished
even the day seems to have no light

-Emily Gordon

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