Tuesday, February 24, 2015

NEW! Poem by Alessandra Lynch

Alessandra Lynch


In the bleeding berries    on the nettle-hill
where pond was a ruse for calm
I gave voice
to what deadened the field    what ended its green
said the word assault, prettier than r____.

Violets whitened.
The thing shrank from its essence.

The words took breath to say    this pushing air away
(as though to dislodge it from the skin to dislodge his breath from your face his voice
from your ear as though to remove space as though to accord you your own space)

Breath lost in one swift pull of winter.

After I said what I said    said the word
assault was prettier.  Assault was less
invasive.  R____ would mean admission and surrender.

The words took breath 

(Hush, hush.  Come, forgiveness.)

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