Marsh Hawk Review is an online poetry journal sponsored by the Marsh Hawk Press collective. Marsh Hawk Review will appear twice a year, under the revolving editorship of collective members. Each issue will offer a selection of poems solicited by the editor, in addition to new work posted by poets in the collective.

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

Amy King

Amy King

This Coffin's Bucket of Soil

All around your face, eggs
buffed glass
to the point of shine.

Suspended with such
wide gulf,
we swim toward sharks together.

We climb the organ's insides
like helmsmen dancing thunder,
a tooth biting down the street
that pierces the brains.

The organ shudders her great lung
nestled in soft voice,
hauling grief through the bodies' void
in wind.

They tell me nothing's gone.
That I can see the air
that isn't skinning me.
I can dive further without
this coffin's bucket of soil,
and hold to the finish before beginning.

*****

The Always Song

The month is April.
Writing from an old house
in front of a prairie and
a forest whose name
walks through tall brown grass,
I could say
much about the part of not knowing,
its aisles
of tracks and traps, temptations
that charm with wooden waves
of ceilinged sight.
But I am savage, outside.
Never once did pools of light
sway this way.
In aubergine moons, I lift
the width of my wrists, I hallelujah
a terrible god, raining
bits of paper
turned to music and orchestras
until I come of age,
smothered by years of breaking loose
clouds of longing against
every loyal thing,
measuring my wildness by the sky
I stood beside, to this day.

No comments: