FOUR POEMS
Bonfire Brides
The embers of a Thousand Years
Uncovered by the Hand
That fondled them when they were Fire
Will stir and understand—
—from Emily Dickinson’s “1383”
Remember when we hurried
ourselves into the evening’s sacral blaze:
Our coal-covered bridal gowns
drenched in the long silver
of our mother’s years? Our hearts ceaselessly
sucking on their stars long dead?
Our laughter pouring out of us
like a sacrifice to age and weather?
If we had known what lay beyond the gates
of our hooded child, would we have even left?
Would we have so happily run into the enflamed morning
with our fists and query and hunger? Should we have stayed?
Sister, do you remember when we wanted god?
Were all tendril? Sweet-cheeked for heaven?
Do you remember when we were sick with Bible verses and hymns?
Our mouths overcome with hallelujah?
Our mouths slowly sewn into the crooked neck
of every sunset? Do you remember the place
where we laid downand grew out our hair?
