Incense

One sound, two vessels, one of them convex 
when you look at it from the left, its back 
hunched like my grandfather’s. The other’s in
a twist, it’s half a figure eight, a sine 
wave on its side. Upright for the first time,
with no legs to walk, no jaw to unhinge,
and no way to slither. It’s wedged in the 
middle of two characters, like a girl
between a bed and a boy in his dorm
on the upper west side, her first time: too 
short and not sweet enough-- at all�" short like
e, as in never, as in never mind 
it hurts and he’s a serpent. Eve will be
reborn, and as a pink lady apple. Let
her tempt and taste no venom, and let her
be still and immune to her own perfume.

Reviews

[Misery]

Very intriguing verses that naturally flow into each other. Excellent poem, dear poet.