La Petite Morte

By Edward Butscher

Green vase on a white doily

squeezes window light

into lime juice

 

blood of a dinosaur, desert

cheeks like a caked

sea floor, cheese

smiles.

 

An infant’s skull, even if unreal,

can be x-rayed by laser eyes

to unlace a Mississippi’s

imploring

eels.

 

Danger lurks here like a locked

mind in a room that reeks

of empty wine bottles,

lipstick wounds,

perfumed

books.

 

I father an unbearable lightness.

___

Poet, critic, and literary biographer, Edward Butscher resides with his wife, Paula Trachtman, in Greenport, Long Island. His poetry and essays have appeared in numerous journals and anthologies since 1976. Collections of his poetry include Poems About SilenceAmagansett Cycle, and Child in the House. His biography Sylvia Path: Method and Madness, was the first of that poet, and Conrad Aiken: Poet of White Horse Vale won the Melville Kane Award from the Poetry Society of America.


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