her Self
— long injected
with a plaque of SE shoulds
at last declined to live under
this harsh regime, these rules —
plotted an autogenous course
around the concertina wire
that pierced, that guarded
packed her clothes
covered the spy equipment
in last night’s leftover gravy
fled the compartment
with a bottle of birch water
and a pocketful of time table crumbs
Day 3 of April 2019
No prompt except something that Charley (Portofino) said that kicked this off.
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Trace the tracks, the paths
of rabbits in shoes,
winter-running across
the dogless land.
They are overconfident of their wealth
and the system’s inabilities
to protect the cross-hairs,
even when the shrill tongue,
like a siren sound,
boomerangs off the cliffs
to stand as a Confessor
bearing witness to all
for all.
Behold! the snow
remains bloodless,
though never clean
within our sights.
April 2019 Day 2 / No prompt, just wrote.
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Hold the fire in your open arms
suck in the ash dust
crying for Porcia, Porcia
immerse yourself in the hot destruction
breathing, willfully breathing
the smoke to choke
to weep for Porcia, Porcia
Hold this fire in your open arms
what tang of soot and art
are you willing to swallow
to reanimate Porcia, Porcia
Harvest thou a bowl full of cherries
red —
eat, letting the juices run
freely down thy breast
singing Porcia, Porcia
all the while singing
Porcia
April 2019 / Day One / Prompt: Ezra Pound, Canto XXXIX “A girl’s arms have nested the fire…”
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