VALENTINA CANO : A Family
RUTH DAIGON : The Drowning
ERIN ELIZABETH : Simply a Poem on Wanting
POETRYREPAIRS v13.06:065
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Spa-Citron
Spa-Citron
Francois Geo
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A Family The Drowning Simply a Poem on Wanting


VALENTINA CANO
A Family
Easy has not shown its face around here. Its cardboard body, soggy with smiles, has taken the wrong street, changed a 1 into a 7, mistaken lawn ornaments for that crooked fern with snail trouble. Easy has not noticed us with our hands tucked in declawed fear into our sleeves. It has not thrown a key against our door or added a few days, like loose change, to a piece of paper.
POETRYREPAIRS 13.06:065
I have many things to write unto you but I will not write with pen and ink
--JOHN the theologian

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Flower Garden (detail)
Flower Garden...
Gustav Klimt
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A Family The Drowning Simply a Poem on Wanting


RUTH DAIGON 
The Drowning 
1 We keep pulling him up from the bottom of the Red River in stop-action or slow-motion and replay the splash blooming around his hips. We correct his dive, restore the promise of his form, each movement clear in the instant of falling. The moment reversed, we reel him up to where he's still sitting on the bank. Mother covers her bare scalp with hair torn by its roots. Screams sucked back into her mouth become soft syllables again. Her shredded clothes re-woven. The table set for his return. 2 Again he's swimming and the Red River opens wide to take him in. Mother's rooted to the bank her voice floating over water we're waiting supper for you. Bread and milk lie heavy on the table where sisters stand strange to one another. They turn their backs and climb the stairs to narrow rooms. It's that time of year nudging memories of his face streaked with summer murmurs at evening meals walks along the river with its glowing spine. In this house where no one survives love darkness opens like a white door. 3 Summer nights we'd sit on the back veranda planing down the hours with small talk. Stories flowed in a spill of old pleasures sweet and tart and light on the tongue. The air was fresh, the weather excellent, the room radiant with the dead.
POETRYREPAIRS 13.06: 065
Poetry endangers the established order  of the soul - Plato

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Pan American: Fly to the Caribbean by Clipper, c.1940s
Pan American: Fly...
M. Von Arenburg
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A Family The Drowning Simply a Poem on Wanting


ERIN ELIZABETH 
Simply a Poem on Wanting 
Sun is a mole, abnormal speck of sky plastered onto the decrescendo of dusk. I am sitting across the Antarctica of his grey '94 wagon, and it is here I grapple for you, for your almost reachable limbs spread vulnerable that late May evening, your body soured by her eyes -- landmines. Now the scenery is static, the beauty of freedom, green and tedious. Promised Delaware coast, steady rise of virgin peaks, a day tossed over his head into the cool chlorine: all like newspaper. There is just you and my ancient musings -- almost asking what all your music meant before Orlando, how she could hold your alphabet in such tight and diligent fists. How I was supposed to find your feet when the weight of my existence collapsed, and I became a featherless child in a world of cut-outs. There is just me in a fitful quagmire, without verse or veins to destroy. Just me in a bright pink reality, the tar of adolescence mopped, resealed. Ziplocked and driven into boxes and bags. Me, wanting to kill the sticky mascara puddles, the creek of eyeliner, the girl I could not be. There is just him sitting like a monument, his eyes not heeding the fallout, the mushroom movement of me, trying to push out of this sepulcher of fidelity. Just me watching the sun spit itself across the bellicose skyline, pressing my fingers into the side-view mirror, wanting a man so distant he's close, and feeding on the distance so close it is licking the stone of my inner thigh wishing to be you.
POETRYREPAIRS 13.06: 065

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VALENTINA CANO : A Family
RUTH DAIGON : The Drowning
ERIN ELIZABETH : Simply a Poem on Wanting

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