maXwell
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1/6/2007 3:04:21 PM
---- Updated 1/6/2007 3:06:14 PM
another poem, from December 2006
I saw the Ice-Queen cream
Maybe I shouldn’t tell
how the reserve softened
the glacial gaze trembled.
Did anyone see me see?
Like butter in a warm room keeps its corners
until … and puddles all at once.
Such intimacy is painful.
An actor breaks character,
the audience coughs and fidgets.
Through their tears
the fasting faithful see stone madonnas weep,
A miracle of grief.
What Bernini polished in Teresa’s marble face
that moment when stone moans.
The magnet lifts the nail
that magnet lifts another, a chain of nails.
Maybe I shouldn’t tell.
I saw the Ice-Queen cream,
a moment’s quiver of the lip
and fleets set sail
towers burned
orphans cry in the rubble.
Maybe I shouldn’t tell.
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