TWO POEMS
Frances Boyle
Shock
I am liquid and slippery shiny
mercury in my blood
I can’t stay in one form
for long. Light refracts me
bends me, spoon in drinking
glass. I shed that shape, shift
on broken bedsprings,
Charge and recharge from
the circuit; clear the way
for the next
brilliant
shock.
Curiosity’s Gift
I.
Scarcity and
all that service,
his able
friend.
Your attraction
made an inclination dewy
light damns bad
heartcourse
each point
intent and fixed,
strange bursts.
Forever lake on
paper.
Begged or
coveted,
sorrow
dallies. Possess curiosity’s gift:
a broad
three-bladed snake.
Form images
distorted
claws and paws,
face
with feathers
fitted.
Trace a join,
hard found.
Hate, the
absent thought,
mines the
hill Feast rover
slake silver
woods to prayers,
made with her
own hands.
A mother inward
demons
receive with
awe. The visit fresh,
look -- delight
sighs, refuses no gain.
II.
Dark
at table every
object
used to map a
moment:
pointed
bent
fixed.
Canoe of
Japanese snake claws,
paws of beast
and bird
awful trace
joined and polished.
She discovers a
demand,
figure imaged
in ivory
her own hands
pass forward
sorrow for
days,
bring fearsome
curiosity
again.
Frances Boyle | Ottawa | 2016
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