HOE
a drink down, mouth to mouth
bare
and we’re all thirsty, gathering at the sound of breath
living in little houses, the sealed jar
nest
of necks, night’s bone-
light breaking the bed in two
bodies that rest on wine-coloured sheets
Here feathers fail to hold our fall, and the sun
barks at dark’s door
Nice. This poem makes me think of what I’ve encountered so far in Dewdney’s Aquainted with the Night, my bedtime reading right now.
Thanks. Loy had a poem called “Poe” that was sort of the template for this one.
What exactly have you encountered? Dewdney sounds interesting. I must make a note to borrow some of your books in the near future.