poetryrepairs #240 v17.08:091

RUTH ASCH : Beach Body
RUTH ASCH : Rescue

for your reading pleasure, verse
from new and established poets
poetry requires a mature audience,
if you are under 18 years of age, click here Big Fish


RUTH ASCH
Beach Body

Walk the beach - I am outlined in gold; eye-prints like scarabs crawl my skin, green-beautiful. What will they weigh if I am held in balance against feather-coated doves? My solar plexus smiles tight at Sun, its worshippers, its loves; beneath, within, are knotted puce threads whose fretting stitches show where worn my rag-stuffed form, its twisting wires of metallic blue. China feet crusted, dull glitter, legs jar like stilts the shifting scurf of borderland. I lie a plank on compact sand avoiding scarabs; envision floating foam - a sparkling waterbed which isn't there; call it spiritual... believe it true... or stalk the unpeaceful tide - spattered at, cut by shingle, breath lost in salty wind which fingers, tangles hair, eyes dazed by lace which melts in mud... and when departing wavelets gush beneath my arches tenderly near draw me in forever...

poetryrepairs #240 v17.08:091





RUTH ASCH
Rescue

She sat at the gates of mourning in her mind, begging tears and blessings - currency of the dead - from ghosts inhabiting its sanctum. He brought her out of Desolation. Her air flying, flocked with voices: recounting and incanting. She clung to him; he listened. They fled, hand in hand in silence; trailed by hoodlum nightmares which woke them every morning, worming over untucked sheets; None saw her eyes as he did: the colour of an unplayed music; Like plundered art her lostness, awkward grace. He built a fence; she helped him - steel glare, barbed word, disapproval - higher than the danger, bar by bar of stiff objection. The gate clamped teeth. Inside she wept ichor and rue, Strong hands fell on her. They turned from the world outside. His shadowed eyes a child's: fear, defiance, wonder; a plea. He tossed away the key. She held him.

poetryrepairs #240 v17.08:091







thank you for reading poetryrepairs
please link to http://www.poetryrepairs.com/v17/091.html
link to POETRYREPAIRS




All the fine arts are species of poetry--Samuel Taylor Coleridge

poetry repairs your heart
even as it splits it open.
VIRGINIA WOOLF
The Art of Reading





Our Dancing Poet Logo! FIND GIFT BUY GIFT
http://www.zazzle.com/poetryrepairshop



No state organ: POETRYREPAIRS
accepts NO money from federal,
state, or local governments.
READERS maintain poetryrepairs
NO READING FEE FOR SUBMISSIONS. DONATIONS, while appreciated, WILL NOT INCREASE CHANCES OF BEING SELECTED.


I have many things to write unto you but
I will not write with pen and ink
--JOHN the theologian


free counters

REPAIR: resort, frequent or habitual going; concourse or confluence of people at or in a place; making one's way; to go, betake oneself, to arrive; return to a place; to dwell; to recover, heal, or cure; to renew; to fix to original condition. -- Oxford English Dictionary


read more poetry

Beach Body

Rescue

091poem3


top