Pentimento

poem & photo by Elizabeth

PENTIMENTO

How his crew cut head froze, poised above the place I could not see between my thighs, his short rodent hair arcing from my hairless mound, my mind providing the anesthesia of amnesia as if a spinal block flowed through a slender needle, numbing my body clean. And now that you’ve cut your long wheat field hair, he is the one I see near my belly, holding a switchblade against the rivulets of warmth that run from your tongue through my lips, radiating out hips thighs breasts arching back outstretched fingers. Remembering till now only my hatred of him, but as your fingers touch my inner thigh, images slice through muscle of his hand on my throat, palm in my stomach, head pressed into the opening I could not see, and I want to run from your arms which have held me warm against your chinchilla skin. As your pomegranate taste hits the back of my throat, his rancid stench catches, numbs my body clean.

Thank you to the editor of Rising to the Dawn for publishing this poem.

Attending

poem & photo by Elizabeth

ATTENDING

I saw this car's hand letter sign
in its back window yesterday:
ATTENDING CHURCH.
Funny, it appeared to be parked.
And I'm surprised this car attends 
church at all unless it's saying that
under this starlit sky
whatever/wherever we are,
we are sacred and always
attending church.

Thank you to the editor of Marin Poetry Center Anthology VI for first publishing this poem.

Night Snack

poem & photo by Elizabeth

NIGHT SNACK

Tonight we plucked that apricot moon
and ate it,
not in a gulp,
but with long laps of tongues,
carving of teeth,
squeezing nectar against palettes
till it trickled
down
our
open
throats.

Thank you to the editors Linda Watanabe McFerrin and Laurie McAndish King for first publishing this in HOT FLASHES 2.