anastasiav: (Default)
Liturgy

The hungry newborn is senseless
to the rotation of the earth,
the tides,
but cries in the night for succor,
for the nipple, cries
at vespers, compline, nocturn,
lauds.

For my survival, in the night,
I brought you to the bed with me,
we slept,
as when I was gravid with you,
slept and fed by turns
each secure near the others
pulse.

The earth has turned 3000 times
and still in the cool pink gray air
of matins,
I find you here, your strong colt legs
draped across my hip
entrapping me as your hands
twine and grip my hair like a
cord.



9/8/15
anastasiav: (Default)

Snow Today Again
Originally uploaded by anastasiav

Say what you want about
the weather, but I will
tell you this:

When morning snow encrusts
the trees, dressing them
like anorexic brides
enqueued to walk the runway,

this virgin world appears
full of possibility and hope
that even spindly girls

will find love.

anastasiav: (Default)
I got eighteen dollars in the mail
from some magazine
that liked the one
about you trying to get
your knees up under you

I bought peas and apricots with the money
a tiny spoon with a rubber tip
and a plastic rattle
that cost more than the spoon
and the food put together

I imagine that
when you're old enough
you'll curse me for selling
your childhood triumphs
to buy spoons and food

I will tell you then
that the poems raised you
I just held their hands
as they attained their knees
then learned how to walk and run

Wake

Jan. 3rd, 2006 09:45 am
anastasiav: (Default)
Wake

after my head touched my pillow
John Spencer sat down at my kitchen table
we drank coffee with honey and lemon
he laughed aloud while explaining
how martin sheen was a communist

he gestured towards the playbill magazine
lying cockyeyed on the kitchen table
my obituary, he said,
was short and incorrect
and quite flattering

he wore a shirt
like my father wears
in his cold war passport photo
short sleeved and madras
beige with a button down collar

he whispered a secret to me
(John Spencer, not my father)
I could see his mouth move
but the meaning was lost
behind the noise of the dishwasher

How still the air is
when you open your eyes unexpectedly
wondering why it is not yet dawn

September 2015

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