Had Such Powers
We touch as if our limbs have fallen asleep.
Not even the genuflection of pins and needles
sparks a turn at the gesture between
us. Not the recognition of skin’s dark promise
of touch. Not the silence either. I rush into
conversations telling myself that I cannot hear
myself speak. If we could only bridge the
dry arena of a marriage between us we might
try. The light is frozen over.
We dwindle and fall after soaring as high as
we dare into the moon, that gentle pet
of ours that listens and sorts out the playing
cards of our days onto the table, in neat rows,
almost like we were readying each other
for a game. This black queen matches under
the red king and the ace starts it off, sorted out
in straight rows of orderly necessity,
all on display before our eyes are put out.
The double-fisted Gemini ignores
the dangerous Taurus who rattles on in a verbal
march to a remote dark sky as she turns away.
Millicent Borges Accardi, a Portuguese-American writer, is the author of two poetry books, most recently Only More So (Salmon Poetry). Her awards include fellowships from the National Endowment for the Arts (NEA), Fulbright, CantoMundo, Creative Capacity, the California Arts Council, The Corporation of Yaddo, Fundação Luso-Americana, and Barbara Deming Foundation, “Money for Women.” She lives in Topanga Canyon, CA.
Issue 17 • Next: David Capps
The Mantle 