"We've left the curtains open
to these continuous departures..."
More Perihelion:
Bob Sward's Writer's Friendship Series
A quick list to poets featured in this issue:
A Lady Writing a Letter
I'm telling you this in ermine
A constant turning,
Hung with pearls,
and another woman's pearls, light
excavating the room and the page
on which I have written only one
word. I'm growing tired
of yellow, of objects in a picture,
of sitting still.
This business of light, of a world
I don't look at. I'll begin
counting: footsteps
in the room overhead, ox-carts
on the road outside, brushstrokes
in a picture.
I'm all perspective, a glowing
thing untouched, never arising
from my quiet capture.
Believe in me as we all believe
in pictures. It's been years
since I closed my eyes.
_______________________________________________________________ Another Love Poem
Nine o'clock: Venus circles the runway.
in the season, to suggest cloud outlines
by searchlights of ascending planes--
once more. By this I mean the body:
weighted into sleep, my shoulder parting
We've left the curtains open
their thin jet whine a conch against the ear,
_______________________________________________________________
Enough light left, even this late
--inconsistencies made solid
and here we are, hard up against it
your arm already loosening across me,
us like a ghost in the sheets.
to these continuous departures,
here in our dimming room.