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{from out of wedlock} craig perez and jennifer reimer i. with the ocean / how to stitch seas like tides / or constitute the current into a pulse that won’t fail. no she said it’s like this / from the reef she weaves her hair into the salt / maps / the water crosses arterial. there are no nets / that can harvest this silence – ii. darkness leaves the body in increments / there is no water to perform baptismal rites / no shadow. nothing escapes our eyes / all that remains. the moon sets pale horizon / the body baptized in dirt / from bone / to sand – iii. she watches a sparrow circle the table. what if the world – this tree / a sparrow wing. the remnants history carried / it is unbearable. predictable laws / the broken violence of the visible. what if the body is an instrument of recovery. not roads of concealed blood / beyond which our eyes do not close – iv. the body translates into light / when opened unveils syntax. deep cut / across the breaking / she sees. light breaking line / his body’s translations / veils – v. of what use are the senses / beneath columns of falling light. where would one live / in leaf or leave / light falls / the completely opened field. what becomes of vines / without sky / she says we become like vines. we become what becomes – vi. prayers ignite silence / sustains the many flamed. many flawed / we resist indeterminacy in the timing of ceremonial events / offering this firmament. a wreath of woven flowers: plumeria, orchid, orange blossom / adorns the open door. where is the bride / in the winter of imperfect white – |
