REM Stage 6: A Poetry Blog || julie niklas

Self-Portrait in Purple
04/26/2012, 9:14 PM
Filed under: Poetry, Writing | Tags: , , ,

it’s true about the spoons—
being pulled from the womb
by them, for one, and also
their consistency in providing
methods for delivery,
silvery and suddenly black
and closed-around.
implying lips in the simplest
sense of the utensil,
later a measurement for tea
and steep times, for years.

in patches of lavender
the drowsy scent carried through
pale dusks whose dawns
equaled them and we moved
between states of motion and rest
like the laws were suggestions
and fed ourselves with our hands.

by autumn the burning bushes
taught the singe of daylight
to bare shoulders, and instilled
fear of things with tough skins.
we always preferred plums,
whose sunsets could be
punctured, gouged out.


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