"I Aurasul"

after my conversation with Linda.

 

 

 

I think

of the mother of affirmation, as I think

of Anne Sexton. I mean, the moments

of her death, of her eventual powerlessness.

And how the addiction to sacrificial love

of this womanly self-destructiveness;

of this hue and cry

so soon from the halls

of loneliness.

"Just get old" my

sister says to me, "I dare you".

 

 

I dare you to curl up to no one.

To have unfertilized eggs

boiling in your womb

like yesterdays saturation.  To

know the excellence of cakes,

of napkins and their likeness placed.

To match colors

 

in the garden of dead things. Where the

greens, thin now,

in the towns of church bells

and s***s walking with their little

children. And I?

I was with a stranger last night.

He crawled through my open

window and took his

leave of me. And then

he left, but I had pleased him.

Art and empty beds are the loop

of static ache.

How, like curdled clouds,

I love the ones that

never call again.

Reviews

[writing mojo]

perceptive and individual virulence in character to the witness of the able embodied enough to wear A sexuality as typed skin..excellent piece

[Horizon K.]

You become her, in this poem dana... Such that one of my first conclusions is to read more Anne... There are so many lines I would call out from this piece as beautiful, beautiful , beautiful... And I do feel like I am left laying in a garden of dead things, wondering if the color of dead moments is what I truly love, and if I can match these colors with the sky...

[W.k.kortas]

So much life and so much death in thirty-odd lines. To write something in such a personal and imtimate voice and still address issues that are big as a house, big as the entirety of the whole damn universe its ownself...well, that's world class work. I dare--hell, I double-dog dare--anyone to show me writing anyplace anywhere that is demonstrably superior to this.

[K. Louis]

"Art and empty beds are the loop of static ache. How, like curdled clouds, I love the ones that never call again." God. I love this Dana.

[Rosalind Gale]

I also once wrote a poem that had Anne mentioned by name: kinetic synergy, that is us, and others of our ilk. "Curdled Clouds" - what a delight. You leave me thinking, always.
-x-