Two Poems


Barbara Cully

The ceaseless turning

                                                …has ended in flowers.

                                                                  --Pablo Neruda

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My cup my knight my crow my love

          this prosey tale is dreaming.

*

This cup my knight my crow my love

          the return of the animal to the mineral.

*

This cup my knight my crow my love

          zero over my zero,

          fossil etched,

          were I not loved.


          *

This cup my knight my crow my love

          spoken as

          this wheel as ache

          and prayed for once.


          *

My cup my knight my crow my love

          you have it

          near at hands,

                    earth-urn,

          as what you

          but love.


          *

My cup my knight my crow my love

          whilst

          you let it tilt,

                    global

                    lessed

          you did hear it mown

          leafy let fall

          as one put turning.


          *

My cup my knight my crow my love

          leafy let fall

          dissed not

          joke knot

          of ceaseless

          what…

                    it audible,

                    it turning.


          *

My cup my knight my crow my love

          words in sutures

          where once was put,

                    as once in-toned,

          spike of want…

          you spoke it

                    singing.


          *

My cup my knight my crow my love

          leafy let curve

          this ashen orchard mound

          ghost garland grove…

                    and morn

          it misting.


          *

My cup my knight my crow my love

          desist

          less

          at heart end

          and bloom

                    he said

          it turning.






What is in between

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Remains wet

Girl-like, abashed

And constantly exposed to degradation.

Ramona, Brunhilde,

Shut softly

Your watery eyes.

*

Knifed now

What is in between

Sinuously curved

Legs and arms

As wreath of…

Nest of…

*

Shulamith,

Giving up the sweet business

Of creation

Cut now in the road-strewn

Saw-strewn

Sinew-tangled crevasse

Where some dark shape moves away the veil of

Our dark spirit.

*

Jelly-sweet

Gap where

(and insects)

In the forest flamed and looming

Such I saw

Such I woke.

*

Her delicate opened thorax

Once shrill…

And what is in between

Ash-quiet lung

Constantly heaving

…soft watery eye.

*

Come now…come now

Tracks furrow away

Twisted and fed

As a song softly

To the minutes we're in.