War Poet.ca - A CFAP Project by Suzanne Steele

anniversary (2) Lazarus

his kisses are rain, they are rain in the desert
rain, his kisses, a thousand precious drops caught, hands cupped,

rain saved, welled, stored in clay pots, hand thrown,
covered with cloth, covered against sandstorm, the devilled dust;

his kisses are pomegranate seed against lips, sweet
o sweet pomegranate seed they bleed sweetness perfect

ripe, the pomegranate cut open by a silvery knife
the bitter peel stripped, the cove of tart sweetness exposed;

his kisses are raven’s flight, the raven flying over us
its feathers oily against winter’s dusky white, O silent, silent night

feather flight path from that whispered place, small of back
back of neck, eyelids, across the brow, the cheeks, my breasts

his kisses rain, a thousand kisses sweet seed sown
one year since his Lieutenant died he doesn’t cry. he doesn’t cry.

he lives. his kisses
bullet pain.

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The page you're reading contains a single diary entry entitled anniversary (2) Lazarus. It was posted here on August 16, 2013.


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