i.

Beginning with the sun above the darkened water,
beginning with the darkened water
and the fish below the surface
swimming in soft concentric circles, swimming

like my fingers lodged deep in your hair,
where the light could catch against a cuticle
and seem to speak or sing,
tell me so, tell me so, tell me so

if the dream has ended, if the river has ended,
if the unbroken line
of mountains in the distance
has ended abruptly just below the line of clouds
if you have passed silently into sleep or death
or an other eye, a new more familiar heart

passed through or passed up my opened body
tell me so tell me so tell me so




ii.

because you allow me to watch
the teeth of the knife blade disappear into your skin, know
that I watch also as you go to the moonlight
as to an other woman
bare and still and honest, but
separate and sad as a ghetto

that I watch you as though you are a child,
how you hold the razor close to your face
and hesitate. The mirror is a flame, you lean
into it with your mouth near to the glass,
making no sound
as though your lungs have suddenly erupted
inside of your chest

or how you will grind the coffee beans or pour a glass of water
as if you have lost your footing while scaling the mountain,
you are unafraid



iii.

I try to be as still as the pines,
I try to be as still as dirt as still as a prayer
as still as moonlight, I try to not make a sound
though you can hear my footsteps and I can hear my footsteps
as well and my breathing as well and my heart

01/04/2005

Posted on 01/04/2005
Copyright © 2025 Marina Dawn