Margeaux Walter   © 2012 All Rights Reserved

Decrescendo, the Music’s Growing Cold


Persimmon-flesh as orange
as the sun’s next death,
this season’s trine-fruit the egg
but also rot, and the light falling.

A pocket garden, a few old tomatoes
ripe as tongues.

Penumbra—what follows me
home past ghosts the dark makes,
what lurks and lives
under my ribs, my shiver-bones.

Crows throng to the yellow plum tree.
A thieving flock, but not my murder.

More a conjugation of priests.
I look for confession—what thrums
my temples, slips from my blood?
Who walked into my skin this morning?

Mysteries in this body,
time I swallowed already bit by bit.

Orange and yellow, heat and gold,
the leaves’ conflagration
ruptures-a calling falls
to the gutter, the kitchen sink.

I folded in too tightly—
brushed up against it and turned away.

 

Joannie Stangeland
Copyright © 2012  

Joannie Stangeland’s new book, Into the Rumored Spring, was recently published by Ravenna Press. She’s also authored two poetry chapbooks, and her poems have appeared in numerous journals, including Crab Creek Review and Valparaiso Poetry Review. Currently, Joannie serves as poetry editor for the online journal The Smoking Poet.


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