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Grey Sparrow Journal

Issue 30, July 31, 2017
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What you knew of me ...

 

 

If you spoke in the voice

of this poem,

Ciò che di me sapeste ...

from inside your skin

 

cloak, and if, speaking,

you began to shed

and sing,

the sky revealed

 

in your torn throat,

the wildfire

flicker,

changing heart,

 

would the husk remain

your truest self,

the shade

you’d offer,

 

lying, l’ignoranza,

name

you’d give, just once,

unsmothered flame?


                -Heidi Hart

Often I’ve met the evil of life ...

 

Words to choke on: il rivo strozzato che gorgoglia ...

I come to the creek still strangled in leaves,

in crumpled paper.  West of here, a mustang falls

in greasewood dust and dies.  Divine

 

indifference?  Keep climbing.  Here, a stone

as sleepy as a marble woman in the sun,

Immortal I could never be – no, the woman

I am circles, circles, crying out from her bone throat.


                                                                  -Heidi Hart