2 September 2004 | Vol. 4, No. 3

And Blushed

by JEN CURRIN

I had a laughter & for that

you had fir trees.

I was a figment

of my own.

On & on—unbelievable

allegiance to the imagination

& it is not for this that I have fallen

only for women.

You understand that as we get closer

to grief we are unable

to sing

but I want utterances,

truth baths. I could call

your part Sapphic

were I to believe

in fragments

but only the whole

can seduce.

The hole in the wind's sheet

becomes a sort of steeping

stone. All you might want,

a voice on the phone, mirror

on the wall.

I don't know if I can read

the landscape as it was before

the curing ceremony.

During you I forgot to believe.

After, love provoked me—