Published on Academy of American Poets (https://poets.org)


Rime Riche

You need me like ice needs the mountain 
On which it breeds. Like print needs the page.
You move in me like the tongue in a mouth,
Like wind in the leaves of summer trees,
Gust-fists, hollow except for movement and desire
Which is movement. You taste me the way the claws
Of a pigeon taste that window-ledge on which it sits,
The way water tastes rust in the pipes it shuttles through
Beneath a city, unfolding and luminous with industry. 
Before you were born, the table of elements 
Was lacking, and I as a noble gas floated 
Free of attachment. Before you were born, 
The sun and the moon were paper-thin plates 
Some machinist at his desk merely clicked into place.

Credit


Copyright © 2010 by Monica Ferrell. Used with permission of the author.

Author


Monica Ferrell

Monica Ferrell's second collection, You Darling Thing, will be published by Four Way Books in September.

Date Published: 2010-01-01

Source URL: https://poets.org/poem/rime-riche