Magic

 A FREE-VERSE POEM

I lighted the surface things

Upon a twilight, burnt offerings
The fiery, throated parlance
Thrown unto verses and flesh-colored signs—
I saw a tree there, once, trembling
In the smoke and shadows, listening
Upon your tempest, your gasping reticence
Of thrones and goblets.
From the stars above you in romantic interludes,

To the gateways of our dirty compounds,
The spine of your father’s bones,
My memory keeps all tithings and wine;

I shattered inside of myself for yearnings—
Many years ago—I was never pregnant.

To bear a rose and gifts in the night,
To withstand the pleasures of murmurs,
Of coldness in shrieking things,
I’ve suffered the broken fathers, cold as stone.

✴✴✴