CONJUNCTIONS: A Web Exclusive
Mark Irwin
When I See This X-Ray of a Hand's
long, jointed bones, floating like a bird's, prehistoric, knuckling
in their brightness, as if to perform some magic trick, to pull
a kerchief from the debut of darkness, I feel dangerous
as a spy, though unwilling as that reach toward something
between milk and sorrow, yet a gift, though be it
a knife, slow like time's, then I feel myself straining, listening
(touch me, touch me) to the long echo of flesh say hello.
The Living
You were reaching for flesh. It
turned to cloud, then the long rain
streaming down your body that slightly carves
of skin a home
for loss. Welcome pilgrim. Make of that broad leaf
a toque, then journey far into the mountains
where snow vanishes as it reaches
and your yellow cap sails.
turned to cloud, then the long rain
streaming down your body that slightly carves
of skin a home
for loss. Welcome pilgrim. Make of that broad leaf
a toque, then journey far into the mountains
where snow vanishes as it reaches
and your yellow cap sails.
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