Poetry, Summer 2001
 

Poetics
by
Amy Burr

Peeling the Layers

He sits in the corner
surrounded by
shards of glass
and nails

such primitive methods of defense

but then he throws me bones
in the form of
flowers,
songs,
peeled grapes

I ask myself again
if it is worth it

and as I survey his
scratched hands
and sad eyes
I feel a renewed sense of determination.

Messy

Basking in the afterglow
amid the damp sheets,
not-yet-stale smoke,
and ghostly echoes of moans

it crosses my mind to be grateful
that I am not
an obsessive-compulsive neat freak
because
if I was
I would not enjoy this
nearly so much.

Femininity Lost?

Barren  

She hates the word
and who can blame her?
powerless to stop
the rejection
in her own body
she feels unfulfilled,
incomplete

and she despises me

a conscious rejection?
—it's unthinkable to her

I ask the Goddess
for the power
to make her see
that the

erotic/maternal
split

is limiting
and her fecundity
and creativity
are limitless
.

  

© 2001 Amy Burr

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