<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Schismatic at a Wedding by the Sea<\/strong><\/h4>\n

\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

I.<\/p>\n

I was lost in ribs of stone, fixated<\/p>\n

on mossy shadows of angels winging<\/p>\n

from behind your ears. When you said<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

you didn\u2019t trust my eyes, your words<\/p>\n

bobbed me back from my grave<\/p>\n

of details, but your breath<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

formed a nettle which made<\/p>\n

me still more upset: You had drawn<\/p>\n

attention to yourself by referring<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u2014like curtains ungathered in a boat<\/p>\n

of glass\u2014to a place the sea<\/p>\n

does not reflect. Mirrored nowhere,<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

not even in the belly of the moonfish:<\/p>\n

a personal sea of tranquility.<\/p>\n

I understood too well to choose<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

not to let your face sink<\/p>\n

in veils of Camel smoke. I remember<\/p>\n

mostly your small teeth, your tongue,<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

the flounder of deep-sea love between.<\/p>\n

My dream of your features, your face,<\/p>\n

was drowned in a grave bereaved of intrigue,<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

as beyond that instant when the beam<\/p>\n

of a lighthouse spiders through<\/p>\n

the misty rigging of a clipper, turning waves<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

of what might have been black glass<\/p>\n

into bright leaves bubbling with veins<\/p>\n

of white film. It\u2019s the glass, I guess,<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

which intrigues me because it might not<\/p>\n

be glass, but a medium for other things<\/p>\n

living but centuries old,<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

like bleary oaks in the bathroom window<\/p>\n

or heads in closet mirrors, small children,<\/p>\n

or better still, when I was scared like them<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

(this is only one pretend reflection),<\/p>\n

just like what I gathered deep-sea<\/p>\n

diving with my uncle. Read my mind.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

II.<\/p>\n

I want to act out what I mean, to make<\/p>\n

you see I don\u2019t know how to act;<\/p>\n

I can just pretend to do a thing like that.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

I should tell you: He\u2019s a madman,<\/p>\n

my uncle. We dropped far down<\/p>\n

from the boat, floating in murk, when<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

he grabbed onto me. I wanted to go,<\/p>\n

but his hand was so cold. Dying,<\/p>\n

I realized I was only a child, only acting<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

like I knew how to swim\u2014as I am only<\/p>\n

pretending to remember what<\/p>\n

happened. To deny it is to find a way<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

of saying it is true. To a madman<\/p>\n

the world is only a lie. Even children<\/p>\n

like the one I\u2019m pretending to be<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

are for me what the world is<\/p>\n

for them. A missing world comes back:<\/p>\n

I lie as stiff as shoulder bones in bed, the heads<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

on that wall becoming more real,<\/p>\n

more real. I know your lips are moving<\/p>\n

and I\u2019ll listen even though the sounds<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

you\u2019re making (you have to understand)<\/p>\n

are stagnant as the body<\/p>\n

of water from which I drew my body<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

(in wake of a drowning you just don\u2019t<\/p>\n

understand) is stormy, on the move. Again<\/p>\n

I don\u2019t know whether to sink<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

into doubt or focus on you, my vagueness<\/p>\n

leaving your teeth half slurred<\/p>\n

into white gowns which keep dragging<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

behind, merging with bric-a-brac<\/p>\n

on lawns where grass turns wet and sluggy<\/p>\n

and blue as the huey ocean. If any one<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

place can seem safe and distinct only<\/p>\n

in the context of another, I come<\/p>\n

halfway back to your face<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

because I have to, but only halfway<\/p>\n

back because my nonsense makes me<\/p>\n

Christlike. Oh sure, it isolates.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Among the Yellow Eyes of Succulents<\/strong><\/h4>\n

\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

I.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Raindrops, tadpoles<\/p>\n

breaking on our noses and hearts,<\/p>\n

exploding tiny motives in the air,<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

we once lay side by side from noon to moon.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

II.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Now we\u2019ll take a minivan to the edge<\/p>\n

of the petrified mounds,<\/p>\n

a surrender to the weather\u2019s orchestration.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Even the mules, wet and matted into tufts,<\/p>\n

slant toward slate.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Above their horny backbones,<\/p>\n

mountains of cloud, not a hint<\/p>\n

of white light in that body of dark vapors working.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

III.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

If myth is part of the mortal tale,<\/p>\n

carry the last icon to me silently, not as a lash<\/p>\n

but a faintly incandescent woman<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

of silica filled with ambergris,<\/p>\n

herself cradling a tiny corset<\/p>\n

of black thorns.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

    Schismatic at a Wedding by the Sea \u00a0 I. I was lost in ribs of stone, fixated on mossy shadows of angels winging from behind your ears. When you said   you didn\u2019t trust my eyes, your words bobbed me back from my grave of details, but your breath   formed a nettle […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[6],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-3859","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/ducts.sundresspublications.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3859","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/ducts.sundresspublications.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/ducts.sundresspublications.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ducts.sundresspublications.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ducts.sundresspublications.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=3859"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/ducts.sundresspublications.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3859\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":3860,"href":"https:\/\/ducts.sundresspublications.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3859\/revisions\/3860"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/ducts.sundresspublications.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=3859"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ducts.sundresspublications.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=3859"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ducts.sundresspublications.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=3859"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}