Wednesday, September 5, 2018

Blue Pages 1.4 — Kate Garrett

Amanda K Norman

a bottle of merlot is a gift to celebrate these weeks that feel like years, to celebrate the passing of years as minutes / chansons resurrect the structure of this house, we lend our pulses to the walls on borrowed time and in the bottom of his glass I can tell the future / in the bottom of the glass I can turn his head to the west while he thinks he’s facing north / in the bottom of the glass this encounter is something he saw in a dream / in the bottom of the glass the sediment forms a crescent moon and he says he sees it clearly too / there is no mist over the moon when I look out the window but he has changed his plans for me / there is no mist over the moon and he hands me a ring, silver knotted around a sliver of aurora / a sliver of aurora like me, a being in a beam who fell through the atmosphere, made solid on contact / in the gemstone in the ring I can’t see the future / there is no mist over the aurora but we’re too far south / in the bottom of the glass I see my love in the rising mist around a crescent moon and I tell him yes

A halfling emerges

the pain is enough to push 
what’s left of me from this body 
along with him

until I am called back by the bark 
of a midwife

and the buzz
of urgency brings more bodies
to the room 

[a baby is no use if only 
his head makes it out]

and they twist and pull
and he slips free, a salamander
in the flood

and a sudden song
reaches us from a car parked outside
the rise and fall his fanfare

and his skin warms
from blue to pink like a sunset

and from where he rests 
meeting my gaze from his nest
on my own sunken belly

his blinking halfway eyes 

[dark as a foal’s on a late spring morning]

see through me

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