All exits are emergency
escapes from moments
that have died.
Write tiny epitaphs
for each and be accused
of living in the past. Without
them there would be
no future. The time has come
to forgive
our younger selves.
Month: November 2010
Emerging Exit
Zippers, buckles, snaps. Buttons
are boring. Based on this,
she prepares her fingers
for the nimble dream.
I Feel Therefore I Am
More than a freshly cut
bundle, more than a bonfire
burning in a field
across the highway, I am
all emotion: no bones,
tendons, skin left.
Everything touches
the raw side—ecstatic
tears, smiles
through grief. I can’t
tell the difference
between my own
laughter, sobs,
orgasms. It’s all
release,
it’s all that’s left,
it’s all I’ve ever been.
Hook
The alarms are as false
as the ladders and boots are
true to form. She prepares
to leave, doesn’t want sleep
disruption on this last night
before an angel appears—some people
go to church—she goes
straight to the source.
Figure
Madness of the mud
but she doesn’t
sculpt. Passion for digging
into soil rich
in nutrients
for thought, but
she doesn’t garden.
One more contradiction—
and her obsession will be complete.
Night & Day Poems of Amy Nash 