Monday, August 31, 2009


Another poem from Walk the Wildly - also published in Blue Dog 2008


Recount the three chokes of fish

Their absence is a metaphor

just like night is a ship

and the photo is an eelish moment

The woman folds sheets

under a gypsy sun

She can't count on living

stumbles into silence and fishbones

Her story is a

bruise on underwater skin

braiding rivers

the weariness of weather

Her past is a hesitation

a hovering voice

hands fading after endless repairs

to the dance of dust

Worry less about

the shouting wakeful moon

square-shouldered night

More about each ant bite of suspicion

the free-glide of traipsing tongues

all those birds in custody
© Lizz Murphy

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