a font of blood, my neck the source wells up
red, and warmth runs through me, spreads on the cotton
by my clavicle and the car window
is broken. i do not bleed or i did
not see who shot. so i lie
still
for years i tried to sleep on my side
with my ear pressed close to my pillow's cheek.
the sound of a heartbeat in the feathers.
as foreign to down as a black boot crunching
snow underfoot. step after heartfelt step
i hear this intruder in my dreams - pacing -
i hear this intruder in my dreams - pacing -
before biology arrives to explain comfort and
before the night surgeon tattoos visions
on the underside of eyelids in the dark.
these boots i am wearing are not mine.
The imagery here is beautiful. However, the second to last stanza knocks my concentration loose a bit. Everything else seems very tight and related, but something about the bullet landing on the floor doesn't seem to fit for me. I'm not sure why. However, I am so entranced by the language of the whole poem it didn't bother me too much.
ReplyDeletei love this, especially this part:
ReplyDeletefor years i tried to sleep on my side
with my ear pressed close to my pillow's cheek.
the sound of a heartbeat in the feathers.
as foreign to down as a black boot crunching
snow underfoot...
this might leave the first stanza a little too loose of the context you were aiming for, but i want to cut away the last two stanzas. i feel like they're there only to get to the very last line. i think the third stanza has the same feelings/motivations as the last two stanzas/last line, but it's better.
couldn't agree more with you guys - those last two stanzas are dead in the water.
ReplyDelete