low red door I enter in
the desert          slaked by rain
in this a kind of format
an interstice      a splice
between the sad time
and the next      sad time
there was a voice that led me           waste yourself
to bone          gouge a barren canyon          in your eye
among the shattered columns
of white          astonished salt
the quenchless     white horizon
above the starving-ground
I stoop to enter          doorframe
weathered      marked with blood
within a kind of corridor
a passageway      a shunt
to lead me toward
a broken          alibi
*
(what watches from the margin
your belly-knot an oval
I      the zero infant
zone of wish
derivative already
compounding      I accrue
in insequential snippets
accumulate      your mother’s
hated face        I helical
and writhing     you eager
to forget          the weeks
of tattered weather
what the snow gathered up in its hands—
*
according to a template           compounding
I accrue
bit-torrent                                cryptographic hash
#humandownload                    #mydomain
infernal code                            transcription
infernal code                            transpose
error                              there is               error
no mistake
*
inside the perfect ferment
of my encircled dark
I am a fern           unfurling           to myself
the mallet of a fist               an eye
mere furrow in the fine down of my face
I am a pure acoustic ear           a larva or a snail
perhaps I am a seahorse           kicking
with my body          toward the light—
I am all pulse                  and membrane
I do not know I am
tethered to the human          to the body
its intent          I do not know
my immanent address        among the crooked objects
the dresser                  and the mirror
the struggle of the narrative           the strangle
of the name                 and who am I
to monster forth           from embryonic pool
that you will make
but will not          mother me)
*
inside the arid           cavern           a woman
carved from salt        her face a pox
of crystal                    her torso, twisted
gyrates toward the door      I touch her
with my ragged hands           I lick
her unclean skin                     remove
the single votive from my bag
I crouch to strike the matchhead
set the flame to juniper and rue
far off, a drop of water          perspires
through the rock                    my singular
petition             Sister
may I		 never bear
*
(what watches from the margin:
compounding                 I amass
relentless                    in the doublecloth
of night                       I thread
my vessels                    wind
my bones                      in this mitosis
I inspool myself
as outside on lattice           the slipstich
of wisteria           twines           from left
to right                 its hook        and I
incessant             a day’s amalgamed blossom
we burgeon           we exceed—)
*
את אלהים ברא בראשית                         את אלהים ברא בראשית
Bereshit Bara Elohim et                   Bereshit Bara Elohim et
& God was a spirit hovering            over the face of the waters
& God was a spirit moving               over the face of the waters
& She created alphabets                  & flung them flaming              through the Void
& breathed them into every living thing
*
(I spread like damp through drywall
unsheathe my cloudy eye
my muscular intent
the big          reveal
I force my frame          through crevices
wrenching                    toward the light
in all my blunt              & terrifying need—
*
there was a voice that led me          the child
makes herself           if this is so
what is it she unmakes                the threads inside me
churn & snap                               my body turning
inward on itself                            how many ways
to flay it                                        how many ways
to starve                                        that aleph
flaming signature                          gone silent                in my face
comprised no script that either of us knew
*
emerging through the corridor
the desert          slaked by rain
between the sad time
and the next                    sad time
among the quenchless columns
of white          astonished salt
the shattered          white horizon
above the starving ground
I touch the weathered doorframe
marked with dirt and blood
in this a kind of format
an interstice                     a splice
I hoist             my heavy pack
I make            my way
 Copyright © 2018 Alix Anne Shaw. Used with permission of the author. This poem originally appeared in Hayden's Ferry Review, Fall-Winter 2017.