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Leigh Anne: The Finale of Be

May 16, 2011 by PBQ

-to Wallace Stevens
I.
would be
the end of endings and beginnings

when the heart is a trout pushing upstream
pre-life (life) post-life (life) pre-life (life)
an eternity granted to be alright

the walls holding in the olympic-sized blue
of my self would crack-crumble
and out go the memorable memories

as a child I thought all the babies
all the babies were tucked in the middle
in the middle of brides

anymore and instead
curled in the folds
of knowing unknowing

nourished by DNA and what the world makes
I think of the soul slowly rousing
one day it’ll wriggle free (of that too

overturning every wheelbarrow filled with standing water)

II.
I can’t even tell
I don’t know the body
if it has to die or the mind

be denied for the soul
to show itself
poor meaning, there’s not much

to go on, not in nature,
the ocean, say,
pummeling rocks like a blind drunk

or in philosophical taxidermy
where being (here) then not
are gutted and stuffed

their eyelids smoothed out their bones
bent in repose
arranged for tourists in judgment day tableau

and the bear cub shall ride the bobcat
into heaven and the beaver lie down with the fox
look how the deer track valentines

in blue snow
with targets painted over their hearts

III.
your sighs
my torso
damp and covered with touches
are sensational aren’t they

the way we cave in shuddering
shake our heads no no
to empty rooms
plant white roses

first we’re in love with our selves
being loved
the velvet rope and chamber
the wet lips, long limbs

our skin warmed again
to the scent of nutmeg and apricots
the body is the body
its longings pure to know

the finale of seem
when quiet as a deer to the saltlick
and soft as dying in your sleep
the soul would creep in like a thief

Filed Under: contributors 69, Issue 69, Poetry, Poetry 69 Tagged With: Contributors 69, Leigh Anne, Poetry, Poetry 69

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