Sarah Gridley
POEMS
 

Between Sail and Tiller


       In the motionless tomb, oars were to pull on space. When sands again assembled
the fervid horizontal, brain was to bight at merest gleam, skull, to be packed
with pounded spices.

       Skin was to sleep in ochre. Through net of faience beads, stripes were to run gold and obsidian.

       Eyes were to indicate open.

       In the the vertical after, garland of garlands, the balanced heart was to fall from use.
Spine in search of tributary, thinned gold sheets were to replicate tongue.