Maureen Alsop

 

 

"1969" Maureen Alsop

“1969”
Maureen Alsop

 

 

PROXIMAL

Preparations for crossing. Not of our hands, but the bell sounding, absolute. A private
grief. Death, your mother opening what was long folded. Dear, this woman’s fastidious
recognition—the respective mind      kept current
the threat of loss.

Even the threshold masks the wave’s orientation.

Prayer filled every door.

               

                                                                              Glint glyph  

 

SACRESTIA

I stand in the sleep of midfield. Beyond ancient grass, grief’s mercy: those voices in
paragraphs of sugary sedition, self-conscious brevity. I died in a burning sweat, wheeze
of smoke between bramble. Strong enough to escape fever, you left a glass cup, water
at the windowsill. Smoothness like thirst. Light’s last conspirator. Before you let go your
hand.

 

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