Poetry — June 18, 2012 10:55 — 1 Comment

Decima After Marc Chagall’s “Daphnis et Chloé, La Leçon de Philéas” – Virgil Suarez

Where I come from there’s water this indigo, a mirror of erasure,
made from a firmament of light, sharp and constant, and though
the lover’s lay as one on blue grass, shadows of animals grazing

beyond them, I think of my love below a shallow surface, merely
submerged, her body glistens, radiates light. Her hair seaweed,
filaments which only live in the current. I think of drowning, why not?

To be this close to another person, another thing, you must crave
this verdigris of proximity. Luminescence incarnate below surfaces.
You must embrace that which aims to slip away. This water

garden from which many have floated into an exile of eternal rapture.

 

 

 

Bio:

Virgil Suarez was born in Havana, Cuba in 1962. Since 1972 he has lived in the United States as a naturalized Citizen. He is the author of several works of fiction, has edited several anthologies, and is the author of eight collections of poetry, most recently 90 MILES: SELECTED & NEW, published by the University of Pittsburgh Press. He is currently at work on a new collection of poems titled INDIGO. He lives and works in Florida, making Key Biscayne his home. When he is not writing, he is out riding his motorcycle up and down the Blue Highways of the United States.

One Comment

  1. Hallie Norton says:
    June 19, 2012 at 8:00 pm

    There’s a comma error in line 3. But good poem.

    Reply

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What am I?

Bioluminescent eye
That sees by the shine
Of its own light. Lies

Blind me. I am the seventh human sense
And my stepchild,
Consequence;

Scientists can't find me.

Januswise I make us men;
Glamour
Was my image then—

Remind me:

The awful fall up off all fours
From the forest
To the hours…

Tick, Tock: Divine me.

-- Richard Kenney

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