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{sonatas and partitas} susan fowler She lies, waiting, silent - Persephone in her forest green. Her wooden corset stretches empty arms from rounded shoulders. Her neck, by god, her neck - golden, black as night, striped and long as a giraffe’s - is silent while sounds spring from her torso. The breath of her lovers - the floorboards resonate, as the air dances to ancient laws lying disfigured in my foolish hands. With her, my fingertips - I become the vast emptiness of the sea - mad, longing - I can walk without stumbling. |
