Close

My world feels different to yours, curves with sharp edges. How did I learn to tell the difference

between you and I

I and not I?

Not I and everything that is not curved with sharp edges?

Not I bleeds when the sharp edges come close

my world feels different to yours,

you are different,

I am distinctly not you and we are both not I. How did I learn to tell the difference?

Where did Not I go

After the sharp edges came close?

When Orpheus Sings Alone (a first draft)

pl7_83466_fnt_bw
Wall hanging from 5-6 century BC Egypt: Orpheus and Eurydice

(See Photo Source Here)

“…so for your arrogance
I am broken at last…”
–“Eurydice” by H.D.

I fell,
(a bird’s cry)
stumbled against
the weight of the sky,
(twisted in the air)
all of mortality
smothering us
(joined the liturgy of curses
mouthed by the dead).
The cry I plucked
from your lips,
your frown
(a bird’s cry)
I wanted you that badly.
(Twisted in the air)
I tripped
on your slow step,
the kudzu vine across the path,
or something equally absurd
(joined the liturgy of curses
mouthed by the dead).
I had to stop myself
from looking sooner.
Pushed the want down
until it was nothing
but a whisper.
Then the bird screamed.

Your Language

Is it your desire to destroy
the sleeping city tucked away
beneath the mockingbird’s broken wing?

There are not just mouths.
There are not just eyes and thighs
who sleep inside.

Swallows get swallowed.
Doves keep Peace locked tight and safe
inside their tiny iron hearts.
Crows attack the sky with glassy-eyed
allongé
and
fall.

The mockingbird tries to fly
and the city falls
awake with the weight
of your desire.

There are not just wishes and dreams.
There are not just people
who love the names
your language will not allow.