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[personal profile] burnunit
are  your arms long enough 
to undo the bindings behind me the ties 
and trappings and fringes of reminders, 
the clasps and buttons, the sewed on pieces 
can you reach these
traces of lacings and sayings
words through clenched teeth
the scent of sweets
on the dense air 
the red spring right here
alternating bursts of sun and sleet
all the dissolved ice
the misplaced slivers of light
 
yes, I said, they are
pains in the tops of my thighs departing
the breath caught in the corners of my lungs
unspooling on sharp angles of the dying winter
my head hung my apple cheeks 
my hair in all directions chest heaving
yes they will reach
 
she is a set of framed black and whites
a pair of field workers in this one
a donkey burdened with firewood
a great stack of bolts of cloth
body wrapped and all held together
each picture separated, the backgrounds the same
she is a white flash of musketfire
a stab of ecstatic pain 
at the midpoint of my shoulders
she is a streak of straw windrows
many tangles yet ordered upon the brown earth
and fresh with the dry scent of late summer
a mouth, shoulders, spine, hips
so sweetly out of season
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burnunit

May 2009

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