Monday, September 14, 2009

Medusa, by Jennifer K Dick

After Laura Mullen’s Cituated, Sean Standish’s new poem Geese and Poles, and the poemNeighborby Brandon Shimoda (remember, to read poems this one is after, just click their titles!!)

Where might she now? Drifting.

Inside her sensorium, the waterline’s sail-drenched inward swoop and scatter of will distanced and provincial


This part danger, part reason desperate.

Solitary. Stolen.

Classically bridging into the assumption of anemic winters, women men longed for, men longed for women longing for women she is dreaming there, glassily, setting ahoy, ahail, below the aft side slipping silent below the glacier blueice slipping splinter into

Scythes scaling away fields out of reach of

Breath. As aquatic.

Dangerous parting of sleep. Here. Heal. Knee, or set strap over shoulders: only to part, only to make it

Firmly, mark her.

She is the lack of control, in release she is puppet stringlifted. Turn in on itself slowly. Gazed. Saying adieu meaning something hollow. Nightsweats pressed against lucid dreaming. Inert

flat angled

White, star-speckled skin in the obsidian depths, beyond the unseeing predators, the rays, the gauzey curtain. If she could last out there, beyond that

delicacy of the return

into her.

Mouthing words in the silent sleep beyond the wall of outbound REM cycles. the weight of a body bending, rent, peared upon a moistened sail when, in an effort to say echo, to say oh, a gadget’s missing.

metal, the Aegean’s obelisk or

lead mirrors drowning, anchor-heavy, as stone.

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