Saturday, February 08, 2014

Dukhi - (Духи́)

Notes on making love to a poem:

Peek at the first line, and close your eyes.
A mountain is almost never in a hurry.

Then, let it blush under your gaze
Like a rose in a steam bath,
Till the dream emerges
From its interior.

If Venus climbs out of a shell,
Why not ease her into a towel
With a warm apricot-smile.

Sniff for notes of lavender,
Sandalwood or amber.

Listen to its curious music.
Ponder: is it an antiphon, or an
Arabesque--a caprice, a requiem,
Or, best of all, a nocturne?

Does it convey you to wine-
Dark seas, dim catacombs,
Drab coffins, petal-strewn
Orchards, or to a sooty alley
Under a clock tower,
Chiming half past doom?

Hold it in an open palm.
Wait until it ripens and
Confesses its secrets.
A tear may blister the page.

But if a phantom in verse
Begins winking at you
Elusively, ironically,
While a subtle point
Sharpens in your breast--
Drop the book, now!
Run, while you still can.


Tim Buck said...

This poem is a thing of beauty.

Cheryl Snell said...

I agree with Tim. It's not the first time!

Iulia Flame said...

Thank you both kindly.

(for erin) when i ask, where have the redpolls gone, and why the silence at my seed station your eyes, unbidden twin candles startle ...

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