Sarah Birl (Morrison) (Philadelphia, USA): Three Poems

SIPPING THE HOURS

I sip the hours. Burn my tongue
realizing that jewel in the tree is you,
a luminous bird breathing me away
in a shimmer and a haunt.

My distance from you is a wishing well.
My distance from you is a comet swift-dipping
conundrums from the constellations.

The stars detect mirrorly our island parts.
Our mirrors are the wings of our song
and the melody spelunks and trapezes
again and again.

APERTURE

It is the glass chariot’s murmur.
It is the grave careening silence.
It is the marauder-cauldron of my heart
screaming poise, swallowing fecundity.

INSTANCE

A poem in my vein
burst and landed
inside the balloon
of your detour. It
splintered, cringing
the sign.


© Sarah Morrison 2008