..
There is a room in a wall, and the wall is
mud, and the mud, crenelated and pink.
There is a bed and cold-water sink and two
pillows.
One window is pomegranate, the other pregnant. They whisper over our bed
from the starry book of the dead
a story of two inseparable children.
In this Genesis all that is delicious is delicious, and the serpent pleads,
Feed me, free me from a lonely perfection
of leaves. Apples tremble redder
and redder to rot if they touch the earth
before they are tasted.
The left eye of the moon prepares your belly;
the seiche of your rose invites stingers
and noses and eyes closed.
I am a wafer at your lips.
You are the tree of life kicking blanket
and sheet to the foot of the bed.
You are the book of life Hebrews undress
and spread upon velvet, caress with a silver finger and silk and knots of
silk.
You are a chalice raised high as my arms
can hold you, jeweled in front and smooth
in back.
You are never unclean. Before you bathe
you are not unclean. When you bleed, you
are not unclean. Inside you I am transubstantiated into blood and the breath
of blood.
What church can refute this miracle?
Wood smoke and wick smoke twist
into a nest. Flesh separates like young
bread, Accipite et bibite ex eo omnes. Hic est enim Calix Sanguinis Mei.
Your lips
are the seperation of light, and I am
the vigil between.
We rattle in our sandcastle, two
tongues, two lungs, two lungs, two rattles
in one hand. If I were king and this
were my quadrant of desert, I would elevate each toe and cut down
the abomination of every god
smothering the cave
where the fire girl raves, her vowels swallowing me deeper into her
wall, Accipite et manducate ex eo omnes. Hoc est enim Corpus Meum.
The hulls of our shoes, the ones
we bargained for in the souk the day
we arrived, will remain.
Our dust will fill the belly of an hour
glass.
["Left Eye of the Moon" by Richard Fammerée]
";
I could not sleep while you slept.
Any little animal might have sheltered in your body;
and I kept leaves from your eyes
and things from your hair until your lips revived,
bending back my fingers
to the lessons of water and thirst.
Fires that night digested the wet,
and when their long viridian became your arms
and a delirium became our legs, threads relinquished us,
and we were not puppeted by earth,
and we were not puppeted by heaven.
We became larger than form and texture and scent--
something like clouds--
and fear was driven from the manger of our bellies,
and anger's thin lips could not diminish us.
We ate everything that was red, and everything red
was delicious.
My sap was greening your milky body,
then your legs slapped.
They slapped into fins and you arced
and my chin and ear separated,
and silver and more silver and silver again,
I quivered behind you.
[Ephemerae by Richard Fammerée]
Just showing your page some love!! S. Lorraine Author & Poet www.slorraine.com Author of "LOST IN ETHOS" and "SPASMODIC DREAMS".... You can purchase these titles anywhere on-line.
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