Friday, February 23, 2007

Want these Words

How lucky to long.

Interior

want him here
want him lie down in dirt
want him dusk and drunk

blame the egg blame the fractured stones
at the bottom of the mind

blame his darkblue glare and craggy mug
the bulky king of trudge and beer stein

how I love a masculine in my parlor
his grizzly shout and weight one hundred drums

in this everywhere of blunt and soft sinking
I am the heavy hollow snared

the days are spring the days are summer
the days are nothing and not dead yet

I in my inhale my red and my coursing
I have no other life than this

Deborah LandauThe Cincinnati Review

3 comments:

Veace said...

Oooohh, I read this on Poetry Daily, and it made me want to work on poems again. So glad to see it here!

a-smk said...

You could work on poems if you would ever respond to my prompts, Sister.

Veace said...

You're right. Check your email when you get back from AWP. Right now, I'm too busy watching television to write poems. A girl has her priorities.