Brian Curling   © 2012 All Rights Reserved

xxvi. wintertalk

26 january

dear simon warren, i remember singing leaning on the everlasting arms. it was a long time ago. i remember my body leaned as i sang. i think the lyrics come from somewhere in deuteronomy. i remember last night a star fell over my town and i thought of ordinary human love. this morning it rained. snow now. the flakes are getting bigger … wintertalk. today i remembered chloris in her gauzy wraps in the painting by botticelli, flowers springing from between her lips. she s running from the warm breath of zephr. too late, too late, her body is already ripening beneath her clothes. today i glued her to a card along with old cash register receipts twisted into string-shapes. today i saw a book falling. a book fell from my shelf and opened to a page about darkness and infinity. a worm has been eating the darkening pages of this book. it has eaten the b in beauty on a page of this book. our purpose is hidden from us, but why. what can you tell me of synthesis, harmony, or closure.


Theresa Williams
Copyright © 2012  

Theresa Williams’s “wintertalk” is part of her collection, The Eternal Network. Each piece in this collection was first sent by snail mail to an individual recipient. Her chapbook The Galaxy to Ourselves is just out from Finishing Line Press.

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