Issue 15, January/February 1998
Melissa Hill - Two Poems

deep in my staining-time,
the moon's pale eye
revolves in my belly.

pale from the cycle
of her vampiric hands
i fall into languid

bittersweet musings
from my pedestal
of ivory and crimson

ribbons that curl all
through me spreading
from the center

until i am whole again
and wake from
a seven day dream.

5. Communion, or Rain

how many times through
our journey did i stop
to speak and fall
again? stop to swim and
drown again? through rain
and diamonds and
a talent show of churches
we made the grass our
cathedral and the stains
became our wine
your mouth the bread
i must break and your
soul all tangled in mine
and the holy water fell
from heaven
and fell and fell
and fell from heaven.
amen.

6. Gone

after fifteen days
i start to repeat myself
my cycle of two has
passed and i raise the
looking glass
time to float on dead-eye
rivers that give us to silence
and in turn to thunder
time to fly
sweet angel mine
to toss these roses
to the sky
and not look back
and weep again
and not look back.