Two
poems from Dora Malech's Break, Make Or
followed
by a note on the author
The
Kisser
As
in, in the, of course. The body knew
the drill by now. Was are we
there yet and then
never been so, then so long. Heart tied
with twine, with shorthairs, trip wires – whispered that bind.
Drew the short straw, scared herself apart
to spit-sweet shards and into
time that counted
backwards from two lips ago. Said done
is done and
is between me and those teeth.
Some little story about dignity.
We're
there yet. Said trussed me. Body the white flag,
body the pulley. Hoist
up and sang to beat
the heart back down again – stick-stone, stick-stone.
Push
Pull
Coughed
and called what bled the quick.
One kick, one trick, one act, one hit.
Called
the troops less precious few.
To lift a fist and strike a deal.
To
best the jester, cheek to lodestone.
Not rising was occasion of its own.
Spring
brought a stiff rain of prostheses,
the storm's black eye on our procession
draped
in lace, hook, line and I do.
Meant charred limbs, rest in pieces.
Meant
long time came and none too quiet.
Then, too quiet beneath the birthing
of
new galaxies, the nebula's
dark arms of dust. Sun smoldered on.
Baby's
first words were friendly fire.
Chrysanthemums of copper wire.
Cat
buried out back in a satin hatbox
beside my big broken, obsolete token
I'd
taken to wearing on a string. Tried
to trade, but the wind wouldn't bargain,
took
more
than her fair share of starlings,
left me kneeling on the tarmac,
mouth
full of ammo and ipecac,
strange heart in my throat, a belly of swelling.
Bells
on bridles to ready for battle.
Broke those horses and there weren't any
horses
left. Explosives in the hope chest.
Hawks waiting to be whistled off the fist.
Doused
the dovecotes with gasoline.
Slipped the last dowels from the cask.
Couldn't
we call the crash a birdbath?
Couldn't we call the coffins gift wrap?
Must
have been some misunderstanding.
Shore ordered ocean but sent it back.
©
Dora
Malech earned her BA degree in Fine Arts from Yale University, where she was the
recipient of a Frederick M. Clapp Poetry Fellowship. She earned her MFA degree
in Poetry from the University of Iowa Writers’ Workshop, where she was the
recipient of a Truman Capote Fellowship, a Teaching-Writing Fellowship, and a
Glenn Schaeffer Poetry Award. Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in numerous
publications, including American Letters & Commentary, Best New
Poets, Black Warrior Review, Denver Quarterly, the New Yorker,
Poetry, the Yale Anthology of Younger American Poets, and the Yale
Review. Last year, she convened one of the MA workshops at Victoria University's
International Institute of Modern Letters in Wellington, New Zealand. She currently
lives in Iowa City and teaches at Kirkwood Community College in Cedar Rapids,
Iowa.
"Kisser"
first appeared in the Yale Review; and "Push Pull" first appeared
in The Canary. need more, please let me know. Further
information can also
