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   o b j e c t s

--- S H A R O N   D O L I N

Enter the saucer coiled of air

murky clouds on the table rainswept into a spiral

cup of dark water there are enough

frangible moments to make this an ars

poetica of form lanced of content:

poppies may be as orange as the line

down the table's center which does not go

with the shadow is blue.

The album opened onto a room a letter

that was never forgiven coffee mug pools in shadow.

If I could tell you without anxious precision

mistrals of feeling I would not have to

skip around so.

© crossconnect 1995-1998 |
published in association with the |
university of pennsylvania kelly writers house |