Monday, January 13, 2014

To the end of your thirst

 photo Woman-With-Apples1.jpg

Woman With Apples

In this moment, she is holding apples out
in front of her. Nowhere else in the entire
universe are these made, red ones with the
starry lightpeel of Antares, duskfall set in
scarlet Martian blush, perfect lips rouged
and pursed on the cover of a valentine card.

In this moment, the sun is all hers and it holds
her completely in adoration, seeding a smooth
glaze of lavish bronze upon her skin as if she
were a diurnal moon cast up into vast blue arcs
skied with the broad passage of summer across
the deep blond silence of the gilding season.

 photo Woman-With-Apples2.jpg

Inside her, given seeds that make no promise
without hope, no hope without the failing wing
that falls into some bright corner of the sea, no
sea that will not envelope her in eclipsing totality,
no envelopment that will not release what emerges
from wingless reef when fin takes feather to arise.

It is for her this season will bend to behold her,
give itself over to her unerring will, push what
stirs beneath into what blossoms above. When
she holds out red apples, you must take them into
your mouth for all that came before has delivered
them now to your feasting, to the end of your thirst.

Joseph Gallo
September 18, 2013

 photo Woman-With-Apples3.jpg

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