"A single sound. The white shade of a drum.One begins to notice things. The shape of a tear.
How even the wind has surfaces. The fans of the women
swaying like background light. Somewhere
a rock has fallen a long distance. Snow geese
sweep the sea ...
Among the feathers, the stars,
through half-closed eyes, we know the short of it,
how easily the thong is drawn up —
those delicate tufts of fur, white blooms,
silencing the mouth."
- Anne Coray, 'Eskimo Mask, St. Michael', from A Measure's Hush
Driving tonight to the backdrop of colored points,
Not many on the road.
Better to be with family tonight, better to be warm.
Better to be cozy, fat, happy, stupid, oblivious, safe.
Oblivious behind the thin facade of lighted strings,
And carols to blot the cries of the world.
At the grocer's the young buy their infused beer
Excited at the prospects of something more, something different.
The parking lot is the world and I stare at all its points
The night is black with no stars
Can't see my breath though.
Some little ones are skipping with their parents
The distant sound of a clock chiming 9pm.
- 12DEC15
like a great thigh.
You have said a woman’s breast is a moon
and her mouth a sweet river.
I am, as usual, cold.
My hands seek an accustomed warmth
inside your jacket.
Again we’ve stood our glass up to the stars
and named the constellations.
Sometimes I wonder how we go on
loving the familiar and the magnified.
…Anne Coray, 'Beneath Sleeping Lady', from Bone Strings
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