Now to Steal (poem)

Now to Steal (poem)

 

 

Now to Steal 

His legatees can’t feel

In the moment they are disowned

Can’t themselves waste-binned

A thread of white tape unwound from the screws

A stain sinking iron back to intimacy

For a heaven’s afternoon in unfilled pockets

Of its first home

 

There has only been

A daughter’s daughter

Lightly settled in

No more sorry now to steal

If postponement bandaids her month’s end

Can’t herself shame-blamed

The puncture mark lately ulcerating

A star formation

Crisis takes the grottos the arms reach

For raindrops and the hands of the parachutist

Separate confident crisis takes the celebrator of

Her milestone

 

Whipped into a head down stricken pose

Crisis takes the anchorless pride of blood

Clan estranged of varied fortunes

Crisis takes the suppurating seams

Of earth mudding like a vandal wrappings

Bitter in misunderstanding

Crisis takes the split and caroms lane to lane

Crisis takes the tower and the crown

Crisis the shoe and foot within

Crisis the winter snows prolonged

Crisis takes the field barren

Where the diver lands

And the seed of a dandelion

And the dust of a concrete town

Scintillate like signalmen

 


Now to Steal

The Big House

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(2018, Stephanie Foster)

 

 

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