Two Poems: Talking to Myself
Some say things are more beautiful when silent.
But what is new and hard, if there are sounds
of birds, is like a camera turned. No violent
noise betrays what hearts can hear, what's found.
One hundred pelicans rising from the water
make a plain of love. By reason bound
to home, I make a silent crane, a daughter,
from folded hands. I wish I were that bird.
I could say 'I have a life to build,' slaughter
dreams; I could fall into place, be heard.
But no. If I did that, no birds would fly inside.
The bridge stretches deftly through the fog,
Two Poems: Hermetic
The ships float on along their ways.
Turning vinegar, the wine I bought;
of its silence bouquet lips know nothing.
A turtledove sweeps like an understudy angel
never noticed from its hard and broken life;
it falls and further breaks. See how its fall
is instructive to the living: Don't wait.
Oh parachute angel, oh vinegar wine,
lost lover, reckless friend, confetti
flown from bascule bridges in the wind,
there are messages in bottles made
only for the breaking, only for the wedding,
oh bridegroom, oh usher, oh bride.
C.J. Sage is the editor of the National Poetry Review, a print publication and a managing editor of the DM Quarterly, an online journal. Her work appears often in In Posse Review. Her recent work appears in Threepenny Review and Against Certainty: Poets For Peace Anthology (Chapiteau Press, 2003).
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