Art by Rita Keri | Etsy Shop | Facebook | Twitter | Pinterest
not / knot
When untying a grief knot, one must
take care to twist both working ends
so as to create an architecture of psyche
different from its conflicted form.
After you left, the cradle sheets began to
edge together, pillowed loosely in sweat.
Suppose a forest between us. Suppose
the elfin crickets crowning the night firs,
a carousel of squirrels carousing under
the drunken wolves. I dream of small
rodent hands, how one pinched my
kneecap and left a heady numbness.
The slide unpeeled its citrus epidermis
as I sift woodchips for bodies as small
as lemons. Wax rinds snap in halves,
sour juice pooling from a fruitless birth.
Inside the red polymer turrets, I find
curlicues of zest shaped to balls of flesh.
Of Mary Magdalene, serene in a cool
blue cashmere top, little buttercups sewn
at the collar. I wore it carefully to preserve
her cleanliness, knotted the baby Jesus
in blankets of tissue paper. Until breath
exited his lungs as fog / water / snow.