Wednesday Poetry Blogging

Nights
Joseph Spece

I
As with Franz Marc's Deer in the Forest:
one fawn is always closer to the Cubist
fragment of back and foreground than others, closer
to evolution through rupture.

II
Lowly as gum, and with the same ruminant
consistency, I stood hitched to your bruises.
The hue of the thether so violet-black
I thought myself second to a king.

III
Being a starfish radially cut down
to a single chunk. Then:
to grow back incidentally a person
without the viscera prone to othering.

IV
The immolated dusk of a rich October.
And a dryad's long shadow recalls twice
the split xylem heart of her
owned sycamore.

V
Aplomb & Interior. And I've kept the dark soft and full for you
as flowers or red melon on the verge of spoil.


Volume CXVIII, No.1

Poem found here.

Picture found here.