Skip to content

Log Out

×

Poetry

Cured to permanent gown, a mineral
seep—all tears, all weep. The lick I am.

The lips I’ll crimp in the swap
of elements—the more of them,

the more I melt. My backdrop
old smoke in the shape of tents,

my city most flagrant in absence—
gutted cavity under the stilted SOS of stars.

I have been sustained by distant fires.
I have harbored desire for deciduous places.

I put everything I loved behind me.
If you kiss me, the taste of drowning.

Image depends on its subscribers and supporters. Join the conversation and make a contribution today.

+ Click here to make a donation.

+ Click here to subscribe to Image.


The Image archive is supported in part by an award from the National Endowment for the Arts.

Related Poetry

A Shroud for All Time

By

Abdourahman A. Waberi

[I strive to live as if…]

By

Tadeusz Dabrowski

The Soul

By

Amanda Auerbach

Lent

By

Maurice Manning

Receive ImageUpdate, our free weekly newsletter featuring the best from Image and the world of arts & faith

* indicates required