Brian Curling   © 2012 All Rights Reserved

lex cesarean


I heard as if in

dreams—
the sound of leather tearing
The pig-gelder’s wife survived

So do
I. The great rift

opening
to pillows of your sleep

draped in vernix

The flesh kangarooed
The difficult pouch
Never did I liken

the mewing from your crib
to that of kittens

No stanzas measured height
weight

The bone’s cæsura tender yet
untended

When you rooted
nothing vatic voiced the odes
you milked

Celebrations of a tissue
missed, of yolk as soft as rose-
tongue, silk

Your visitation squandered
though I loved you, love you
yet

This scar. The law
I never guessed, this
fullness

Carpet of my blood
to hail you

 

 

Kathleen Hellen
Copyright © 2012  

Kathleen Hellen is the author of The Girl Who Loved Mothra (Finishing Line Press, 2010). Work has appeared in Barrow Street; Cimarron Review; the Cortland Review; the Evansville Review; Harpur Palate; the Hollins Critic; Nimrod; Poemeleon; Poetry Northwest; Prairie Schooner; and on WYPR’s “The Signal.” She is senior editor for the Baltimore Review.


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