Sunday, 21 March 2010
if she was called hélène then why is she no longer spoken of there?
this is a poem in fourteen lines.
it takes place in thirteen locations.
there is a scene in a room where twelve bees bleed & bend iron bars with owl's teeth.
there is a mistaken identity in which she climbs the volcano to look down & inside.
she finds herself as if beside magic.
there are additional mirrors to be adduced according to easy formulae.
there is a police car & it imagines life as a laboratory.
if today is sunday she relaxes across from the pool.
the stars come out of the sky & drape themselves about her breasts.
she traverses invisible streets everything looks at her.
it's a world without love & she looks in her mimetic clothes at her mimetic clothes at the lovers in their windows.
she has a hair of head.
she scratches the two words nightingales into her wrists o so slowly that everything stops