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Board Administrator Username: mjm Post Number: 4392 Registered: 11-1998 |
Honorable Mention The Reincarnation of Word Treezaa (T. E. Ballard) It has been forever since we read together in bed our naked bodies like spoons resting on the other. Sexton in her low voice, bare breast. Sexton with her bones and emptiness. I am a fish with no hands, the beloved, one who comes time and time again in the darkness of poets. I dream of you in words wrap the long legs of constants around your thigh. We cannot live in this, a murmur, a breath only to return to ordinary, reinventing our love with dictionaries. I asked you once how it was the angels died, was it not written somewhere, no beginning or end. Was it not written they cried tears of fire and when they called holy, holy,holy they were born again. I have watched you die with your legs open and I knew then there was no god or heaven. Only this. Hundreds of years ago bodies were filled with salt so the dead would not return with the weight of sand falling from their eyes. My darling, it will not be the same with us. I will bury you with angels, the hands of fish, read to you the words of Sexton, begin our lives again. |
