Sunday, October 27, 2013

Scent of summerless smoke

 photo Stormwalls1.jpg

Summon water in summer and you will not thirst;
summon water in winter and you will not drown. ~Aucassin Verdè

Storm In My Walls

There’s a storm in my walls, coyote scurrying off
in the dry meadow with a rattlesnake in its mouth,
plane passing beneath the skeletal form of Cygnus,
scent of summerless smoke in my mouth. This is how
I hold your absence. There’s a storm in my walls.

Glass panes make sunbabies, owl croons burnt
dusk from the burled den of a faint oaken moon,
symphonic music pulses through late autumn clouds,
taste of mountain lakewater in my chest. This is how
I come before you. Glass panes make sunbabies.

I cannot say what these things mean. Open doors
riddle red fleshholds of my dawn-trodden body,
shapes I cannot describe carve names in deep tissue,
feel of blue camphor ghosts in my eyes. This is how
I remain in your locket. I cannot say what this means.

Joseph Gallo
October 27, 2013

 photo Stormwalls2.jpg


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