Aria for Anger
Every morning, a new cut.
Every morning, the taste
Every morning, the taste
of blood in my mouth. The thought
that something inside me has split.
that something inside me has split.
I could blame you, you who pushed
like a finger promising sweetness
like a finger promising sweetness
then scratched its way out.
You're responsible for the red
You're responsible for the red
sounds I carry. I've listened so long,
by now I must be a red sound, too,
by now I must be a red sound, too,
a body pitched beyond the range
of common hurt, I rise to the lip of it,
of common hurt, I rise to the lip of it,
pour myself before you.
Aria for a Wedding Dress, a Lover’s Possession
inspired by S. Ansky’s The Dybbuk and Sigalit Landau’s photo series “Salt Bride”
At first, not wanting to belong
to anything, not even myself,
I have finally taken you over me,
arms raised in surrender, knowing forever
you will cover me like this. Your will
fastened onto mine, buttoned up to the neck
where the fabric sinks like teeth
or a kiss. I lick my lips, taste the salt
of you dotted there, your ghostly ellipses
the new guardian of my mouth.
Cleave me from the world
and its understandings. Any thing of love
is first a thing of madness, you've said.
My mind debrided of right and custom
in the dark, flayed of an old spirit, dressed in you.
to anything, not even myself,
I have finally taken you over me,
arms raised in surrender, knowing forever
you will cover me like this. Your will
fastened onto mine, buttoned up to the neck
where the fabric sinks like teeth
or a kiss. I lick my lips, taste the salt
of you dotted there, your ghostly ellipses
the new guardian of my mouth.
Cleave me from the world
and its understandings. Any thing of love
is first a thing of madness, you've said.
My mind debrided of right and custom
in the dark, flayed of an old spirit, dressed in you.
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