a woman all about love yesterday.

Shira Dentz

                We have a single sky.

                     have a single slash
 

a single sleeprose
single sleeverosebud
single slaprosette
single sliceroster
   sliderostrum
a single sliprotunda
single sloperouble
single smellroue
single smilerouge
a single smokerough
      snakeroughcast
single snowround

gotta let the passageway silhouette,
benediction of my kneel creaks in ________ labyrinths;
trying to ________ pregnant, backgrounds with or without; married, single. pressing
hard, bloom drains from my hand. patch. sunlight dims
in the late aftertaste. sunshade dimming in the late age. 66°

Your pearl self slows power, circles

 

More by Shira Dentz

Sysiphusina

place where i gulp,

a tiny back room

somewhere distant and indistinct,

or a small house off a backroad &

cozy with little turkish rugs, crayon-colored furniture and things,

dollhouse-size, but alive,

flexing wide like a spongy sea creature

or lung. forming want.

[    ]

i try plying it with different tastes—tea, chorizo, avocado, nuts—

but nothing doing;

no more than opening and shutting windows

stalls the mount to heat frenzy and returning chill;

the gape stays still,

shadowed like Humphrey Bogart in a trenchcoat on some staircase

(stirring for a cigarette)

Related Poems

Why knowing is (& Matisse's Woman with a Hat)

Why knowing is a quality out of fashion and no one can decide to
but slips into it or ends up with a painting one has never
seen that quality of light before even before having seen it
in between pages of another book and not remembering who knows
or recognizing the questionable quality of light on her face
as she sits for a portrait and isn't allowed to move an inch
you recognize the red silk flower on her hat
and can almost place where you have seen that gray descending
through the light reversing foreground and background
as the directions escape one as the way you have to
live with anyone as she gets up finally from her chair
having written the whole of it in her head as the question
ignored for the hundredth time as a quality of knowing is
oddly resuscitated from a decade prior to this.