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Space's Omission

I found in her a narcoleptic swan
tipped in the edges with wax. As
the sea looped in I heard her belly
song rise as an acoustic brushfire.

She rained on in the closet
inside me as a dying race
of half glimpsed whales.
The oil fell as tapioca
from my eyes, hands nailed
to the lime green oars from
a garage sale, the breath
on her shattered compacts
drifting as plankwood in the sea,
stragglers in the omitted spaces;
absent in the melody's clip of fallen
fingernails, no wreath, no memoria.

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Comments

I'm not quite sure what is going on here but I love the powerful imagery. My favorite line is "The oil fell as tapioca from my eyes." I liked the use of enjambment.

Thank you

author comment

is the narrator of many of your poems the same (you)? Is the she/her of many of your poems the same (a significant other)? It would be a fascinating thing to know if one person had been such a substantial muse. I've only ever been able to write one poem per real muse, if you want to put it that way. It always amazes me how people can have what seem to be outpourings for one other person. I guess that is my age/inexperience talking!

"Oil fell as tapioca" stood out to me as well. Reminds me of the heavy feeling when you are almost asleep and still somewhat conscious.

Kelsey

Advocates Coordinator

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