POEM of the DAY

Thursday, March 26th, 2015





Ancestors


One rages, white as wood.

Another sits ruined at the center of her realm.

One of them broods over a clutch of old combs.

One darkens like an oyster in the autumn smoke.

There's one the shape of a ganglion, & one like a yawl.

There's one climbing up from the deep planks.

You find a glass one. A leather one. A slat one.

You watch one dissolve into the embrace of an oak.

Already there's one drawing a fine grid on your forehead.

There's one disjoining the cables of your wrist.

One lives in horses. Another in a warp of snow.

One's a kind of luster in the mouth. You remember one

who taught you to make a kerchief of your hands.

Another came in a nightdress browned with spit.

Sometimes, you glimpse one moving through the woods.

Or whispering through the slits of an iron rake.

There's one who waits, & one who weeps on the road.

But you choose the one who blooms like a war by night.

The one pulling another sheaf of your hair into her mouth.

That one is always here. That one, that tender

trench knife in the head.

                             - Kiki Petrosino

                               from Hymn for the Black Terrific

 

 

 

 

$14.95
ISBN-13: 9781936747597
Availability: Usually Ships in 1-5 days
Published: Sarabande Books, 8/2013

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