Afterflood
by Carmen Calatayud
I slogged through lakes to get
beyond the highways.
Each curve turned into a
situation
dying for attention and lace.
No, I can’t drink.
My words were chunks of liver,
blasted by heavenly structure
but now my voice is butter.
Without soreness,
I sing to hold god in my mouth.
Even while hearts are nailed to
the fence,
I hear the cadence of each beat.
Love explodes and is tender as an
infant’s shoe,
begs us to walk down the street
listen to the dead in the heavy
rain,
absorb the stain of water.
Copyright
2012 Carmen Calatayud from In the Company of Spirits
First
appeared in Cabin Fever: Poets at Joaquin Miller’s
Cabin Anthology
No comments:
Post a Comment