|Not To Be Reproduced - Magritte|
The American West figures strongly in Andrews' oeuvre and gives rise to her most lyrical work. Her first collection of poetry in thirty years, Blackbirds Dance in the Empire of Love, is forthcoming from Finishing Line Press.
Sunday, March 24, 2013
New Poem: Refraction, for Magpie Tales and Beyond...
Would you say
that the fact there is only one
of each of us
is a good thing?
Mirrors tell us nothing.
But when we slice into the heart,
magnifying a section of loamy tissue
on a slide,
there is a tiny movie of fleeting days,
someone walking empty-handed
along a dirt road.
Always, we are evading
when we think we are running toward.
As in how he seared me with his hands
and bent my spine to fit his body,
and I was on fire with questions
when he turned away into sleep.
What is this—does it mean
I am yours?
He dreamed on and I retreated,
slipping the diamond-cut
topaz from my finger and tossing it
into the blackbird slough
at the asphalt’s edge.
The back of someone leaving
always seems angry.
Even his raven's wing hair
wears the gloss of alienation.
When I am desperate
for you to see me
I break the mirror,
say it was an accident:
A meteor or a piano
fell through the roof.
are all I have for a mirror:
if you wanted, if you dared,
you could refract me
into a thousand stars.
To participate in Tess Kincaid's The Mag photo meme, where there are always brilliant responses, click here.
copyright Jenne' R. Andrews 2013