Tuesday, July 21, 2015

Kelley White- Three Poems

Here is the stone they took from your father’s throat
the bird that fluttered its wings against my warming palm
the heart shaped chest of the cooing dove
you drew the coronary arteries on a napkin, there,
the place of blockage, there the hope of neovascular return
we met the man who first cut the heart,
he kept a cold room of white Wedgewood in his basement, 
the valves, lips opening and closing: he knew the outcome
before I placed the electrodes, eyes dilating to mine,
the last thing he would see
the fish gills pink clank clanking clanking in lost air
startle of too white arms
lifting the stone hammer,  cropped
head sweatless against thick
sun,  arms gorgeous,
corded with veins,
sinewed wrists drumming
cloud immense and building
stone on stone,  shoulders bare
even of a workman’s tattoos,
rock broke to the point of death,
heat driven,  lit up, heading
Your Scab
the bees that encircle your wrist
the tracery of white
light when you move
your fingers
your breath of trees
your lighting-shot eyes
the haze of pollen dusting
your hair
your dance
from my
open door

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