Ruth Daigon, Trapped in a Common Dark and Mirror Image (two poems)

    TRAPPED IN A COMMON DARK schooled in flowers matriculated in bombs we're trapped in a common dark hollow-boned with the midnight people under the bearded earth with its terrible cuttings away from the stone music of war away from the empty eyes of ancestors in a trance of blue-veined dreams we learn the shape of dry space and the liquid life below as winds blow ashes of tomorrow dust swarms through gusts of quiet and light congeals no tears to scald the snow or melt the peaks no sound except the squeaking of a prayer wheel not a heart beat is spared not a funeral note only the salt wash of the sea its pitch and pulse in the black center of time MIRROR IMAGE She's above me leaning into the pond. >From the still, clear water I stare up mouthing her words. As I drift on the current and beyond, she follows, sinks a stone through me, then extends her hand in invitation. We exchange places. Water covers her eyes, her mouth. I inhale her and I am cold. Very cold. Peering into the blue facade I shield my eyes One reflection kisses, the other kills. She sinks through amber depths into green awareness and then rises to the surface singing of a more transparent time, wishes wished for, granted, and soon gone. Night rises like dark wine. Under the moon's bald eye we float together, the shadow of one lying darkly on the other.

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