Lisa Huffaker
Seal
for Benjamin
You said you were afraid. You begged me, stay.
I stayed. Another night I would have said
good night, and kissed your face and walked away,
but that night I sat longer on your bed.
I wouldn't hold your hand, because you would
have never let mine go. I asked you, rather,
if I should hold your foot. You said I should,
and so I did. I'm not a normal mother.
Nor were you any ordinary child
with children's monsters underneath your bed.
Your ancient eyes were beautiful and wild;
the cosmos broke in waves upon your head.
You dove into that ocean like a seal.
I swam behind you, close upon your heel.
Incubus
I'm singing to you now of the dark stair,
the narrow winding passage in the air
that steals up to a hidden chamber where
the opalescent colors boil and flare
and brew a kind of darkness you must wear
like water on your skin, or like the stare
of eyes that lick your body like a tongue
to leave it bright with heat, to leave it stung
with jewels. I am singing of the room
where knowing and not-knowing both have hung
a string of colored lanterns in the gloom
and sung a song forbidden to be sung.
You climbed the darkness: who was waiting there?
What incubus or angel would prepare
your dreaming-space with incense, so the air
would coil around your body like a snare
and breathe a fervid blessing in your hair?
What demon-god could utter such a prayer?
You wound the spiral upwards from the floor:
there in the shining darkness hung a door.
You fit the key and turned it in the lock;
you felt the turning, turning in your core
of time itself unspooling from the clock:
your chiming bones sang: here's what life is for.
I'm singing of the dark and winding stair;
I'm singing of the passage in the air;
I'm singing of the hidden chamber where
the iridescent colors burn and flare;
I'm singing of a knowledge you must wear
like light upon your skin, or like the stare
of eyes that lick your body like a tongue
to leave it scorched and trembling, leave it stung
and shining. I am singing of the room
where darkness brought forth lanterns, jewel-strung,
and how your chiming bones began to bloom
with melodies forbidden to be sung.
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Fifth-Anniversary MC Reading
West Chester University Poetry Conference
Friday, June 10
8:15 AM
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| Alice Mizrachi: Growing up in New York, I have been immersed in a culture that is constantly growing. Throughout my work you can feel the influence the city has had on me, the never-ending desire to grow and flow. One common thread in my work is the texture--rhythm and layers. I love to incorporate tactile surfaces that compel the audience to approach and feel it. Timeless and universal, my images evoke a raw feminine energy that leaves you feeling nurtured. My art is a vehicle to express to the world my journey as a NYC female artist in the past, present and future. I am logging my time here. After completing a residency in Paris during 2010, I am focusing on residencies in other cities with the intention of spreading my art globally. | |
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