| Naomi Ruth Lowinsky USA
i asked for a dream and because you coughed in the night i remembered the fire painted by the woman who had been through it all- her testimony to the ones who burned- she mixed her own colors red with just the right yellow for the blaze green with a touch of purple for foliage violet for the pretty horses our flesh sacrifice O the leaping flames to god you turned in bed and groaned about what you wouldn’t remember- the woman who painted fire in my dream held it up for me to see through sleep i am crawling around the edges of you longing for you sweet sleep that my grandson fell into this evening as i walked him and sang and his head hung heavy on my arm sleep why do you hold yourself back from me you were my first love you wrapped me up in my mother’s dark knew me before i knew light filled me with all i’ve become sleep my oldest familiar open your doors to the streaming stars lets lions loose to dance in the sky and those who are gone let them return to speak my name for everything that’s lost is found in you and everything changes its shape rock becomes a giant lizard flame leaps from the rock becomes word becomes snake becomes backbone mine! sleep only you can wash away the day’s bile this one i’m arguing with that one who rubbed me the wrong way lead me down into your secret pools rub oils into my body take my muscles in hand and smooth them out O sleep lay your big blue weight upon me! marriage in my dream you give me two necklaces one of dark blue crystal surrounding a pendant in the shape of a woman the other of some cunning metal catches the red queen dancing as in our long wed bed you bring her out of me again and again in the same dream i am wandering around looking for my lost penny loafer from when i was sixteen and in the same bed we lie exhausted filled with unbearable stories the old moon wanes i sit alone wearing the dark blue necklace our lady of silences blue for sky blue for sea blue for what gathers in me the red queen she will return shoes will be lost and found in my dream and in yours a beautiful woman presses her breasts against you a leo prays lion be with me your burning heart your leap of certainty sun knows your body ocean smells you coming you are not divided against your fierceness any more than is the turkey vulture against his bone cleaning the spider against her web so if i have teeth if my heart is a big thing that beats if it burns for word of you let me not be divided against such passion some say we are made of fragments we drift in and out without core no god the conductor no imprint no plan nothing from forever visits the dream nothing from tomorrow remembers the dead stag that coven of black vultures we startled cleaning his bones O my animal soul let them not severe me from you who are green and glowing whose eyes are burning coals who danced in the planets at my birth my life is your keep! where goes her song when the bright blue bay the golden bridge are ripped from her eyes when her face is lost to the gaze of the sun where will her morning devotions go who will sit on this wooden porch ponder the inward valley make marks on white paper when her face is lost to the gaze of the sun when the eye of the sky has forgotten her name who will ponder the inward valley make black marks on paper where goes her song her lamentation her prayer when the eye of the sky has forgotten her name will anyone read these words where goes her song her lamentation her prayer the eyes of her love with their yellow glint will anyone read these words where go Sofia Jerusalem Calcutta the eyes of her love with their yellow glint cities temples flesh torn out of memories membranes where go Sofia Jerusalem Calcutta the eyes of that beggar his shriveled up hand in Bombay cities temples flesh torn out of memories membranes the red lotus the butter ball what she offered to Kali the eyes of that beggar his shriveled up hand in Bombay she will become whatever one is after breath red lotus butter ball an offering to Kali ah! she will miss how the morning light falls into the valley when she becomes whatever one is after breath where will her morning devotions go who will there be on this wooden porch ah! she will miss how the morning light falls into the valley when the bright blue bay the golden bridge are ripped from her eyes
© All Copyright,
Naomi Ruth Lowinsky. |
