5 POEMS
by Mary Sue Koeppel


FOR THE CHILDREN OF OKLAHOMA & THE WTC
Suffer the first vision
that set fire to the stars.
~Dylan Thomas

Practicing for the fire
the star spirit set up the sky,
watered no clouds in the drought.

She said it was partly triage,
to dip the big dipper
into the store of lost things
she'd found and set out for
the infants buried alive in the stars.

She told everyone to watch –
they would find stars where before
there had only been milk.

The stars were pure, the vision
was of the holy spirit of love,
of tenderness, and of abandonment.

Abandonment. So she engaged
a circus in the ring of fire,
hired lions and rabbits to jump,
sent jugglers into the stars.
An elephant cut his toenails
and the fire burned the leavings
where the children played in the smoke.

Sometime later the star spirit
came to sit on a fire ring
and all the little children
took turns climbing on her shoulders
and tumbling in and out between
her ankles.
When the elephant
began to trumpet, children jumped
on his back and paraded.
Afterwards
the children rested chins on their
chubby fists, waiting for the vision.

It came again to light more fires,
to blaze where children slept.

________________________________________


STIFFKEY
(A Found Poem)

Stiffkey, the rector,
prowled London tea shops
persuading an astonishing
number of young waitresses
to slip into toilets
with him,
assume awkward positions,
and copulate.

Defrocked,
the rector
found employment
as a tamer of lions
and was
eaten
by one.

________________________________________


AERIEL WISHES TO A LOVER

To toss tulips, jonquils, gloriosa blossoms
till he catches them, dangling, on his ears

To wrap him in seed strips till his heat and juices
make zinnias, petunias, and pansies bloom

To splash ripe raspberries on his breastbone
To rub velvet strawberries into his hair

Then to glide over Niagara safe in a bubble
blown through a dandelion ring in the foam.

________________________________________


WHERE IS THE ODE

to the last menstruation
and the wish that, had we known

this was the last red blood gush,
the final fish/blood smell,

if we had known the warm juices
would dry, we'd have bottled them,

taken them out only with perfumes,
myrrh and spices.

If we had known, we could have
dribbled on white paper,

finger painted red, watched
our design drying like October leaves,

framed it in gold, hung it
high above the fireplace,

called it, "This is the Last."

________________________________________


THIS MORNING

when I awoke,
your image fumbled at my eye
until I swept it out
in one loud burst of light.
I turned and tunneled
under quilted bedsheets.
You, from the pillow,
watched. A starling came
to pick at my eye and
I let it. When the pupil
was gone, you chased the bird
till you caught my eye
and brought it back.

I watch you now, eating
peaches, cornflakes.
The clicking of your jaw
tolls the ascension.

________________________________________


Mary Sue Koeppel is the editor of Kalliope, one of the most respected and widely read women’s literary journals. Her most recent book is In The Library of Silences, Poems of Loss, which has received widespread popular and critical acclaim. Published by Rhiannon Press, In The Library of Silences: Poems of Loss is currently available through The Canopic Bookstore.

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