Charles Farrell   © 2010 All Rights Reserved

She Dreams of Leaving

Always in the vision

there is a train    and if not

a train             then some tracks

ramp and switch      and triple torus

entwined in knots             until it all

unwinds and climbs                uphill

I am ever there          for the train

and the train     is never there

for me           so I wait

and the waiting

changes          the shape

of the dream          and people

enter     and leave     by the many

ramps                       some appearing

from the ether                          some

ceasing to be         who they were

You were there        with your

illness  wrapped in a jacket

blond hair tucked

in a pocket        Always

there is a train        and a wall

to lean against                    a rail

between us                    some water

below       So remember to measure

each slow exhale      for the train

is now a boat       and the boat

is ashore           We board

and are borne away


 

***

She Wants to Dissolve Into Light


reappear—
as white winter alder,
water roiling over stones. Cold,

aglow. All night she listened
as shots departed a rifle’s house, ignited
a fire within the buck’s breast

the river doused. The moon
a body broken, an offering
the bare floor accepted, a blessing

she circumnavigated. Breath
cleaves from breath,
flesh from bone,

bone from other bones. She’s seen
salmon work the stones
then abandon battered

rafts of their bodies to bear,
cougar, and other hungers of night.
She anchors confessions

to an antler
shed in the river’s midst,
slick stones underfoot,

grasps its ghost white limb
with a fallen branch. Closer in,
its broken tip, a window

into marrow, she turns away.
Days she wavers between flesh
and possession, weight

of blood in her hands, of bone.
Nights she loses herself
in the forgiveness of water.

 

 

Ronda Broatch
Copyright © 2010  

Ronda is the author of Shedding Our Skins (Finishing Line Press, 2008) and Some Other Eden, (2005). Nominated several times for the Pushcart, Ronda is the recipient of a 2007 Artist Trust GAP Grant, finalist for the 2010 May Swenson Poetry Award, and is currently an editorial assistant for Crab Creek Review.


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