In The Womb We Dream of Carnations by Dan Lasher

July 25, 2011 § 1 Comment

In The Womb We Dream of Carnations by Dan Lasher

Monday sits watching the spectacle of the weekend
plotting her revenge.
Wind is the paint brush of The Divine
against the clouds.

I drink the milky flesh of your thigh,

Ashen-eyes
you move just as good across the page
as you do in my mind,
or across the hardwood floor of the earth.

Soft sundress on you on the floor,
and rain fell like buck shot.
Light danced between your legs
and I saw God and Heaven.

You are a flood in my arms,
if my eyes were mirrors
you would see what I mean.

I’ve walked in to find you fixed
and nodding on the couch.
Your eyes dreaming of saxophones
and out of state plates.
We rode on Coltrane,
mined our souls for lamp-oil
right up ‘til morning,
we kindled a fire of twigs,

Loins scarred,
I’ve seen you naked
on your bedroom floor.
Starving for air
like a fish,
fin stretched south to Heaven.
I’ve seen you dying—

Sick with time. When our day grows old,
and all our grand visions for the world
have gone to bed—
the face of them drooping down—
obscure.
We sit around contemplating wine bottles.

Don’t you know that in the womb
we dream of carnations? The dead come back
to visit the earth as song birds.
I have witnessed this.

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§ One Response to In The Womb We Dream of Carnations by Dan Lasher

  • Maryanne says:

    That was amazing but I don’t really know what to say about it. I love it and hate it when that happens.

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