War Poet.ca - A CFAP Project by Suzanne Steele

lazarus (24)

Lazarus inks lovely loops, Black Hawk T’s,
a thousand strokes, words/kisses penned
along her spine, her nape, her eyes, her throat,
he holds her close o close, deep assonance,
his diphthongs sweat and soak,
her body is his, ever-present field book,
his notes—who’s what’s, where’s
next—o Lazarus that long patrol,
that crazy sand, your presence stroll
show the boys, mark your AO,
far far from hiss, warm radio’ed,
through villages, the waving wires road,
o Lazarus, writes it out, this winter night
the war within, the war without,
o Lazarus, the linen is your candlelight.


About This Page

The page you're reading contains a single diary entry entitled lazarus (24). It was posted here on October 03, 2011.

·

Complete diary archive