Besieged
(Published Santa Clara Review 1991)
This, then, is what I want,
to be right at the center
of the siege,
unprotected as a jetty
when the sea arches its back to strike
intentionally.
Or sitting still with you near
as our origin,
the barest lamp lighting us,
our many faces
pooling
so that we can’t find ourselves
anywhere
.
The Scream
I have seen
in a region that grows old
the way we stand
sideways to feel the wind,
touch dying things with fear.
I have seen misery hang
like small lanterns on the trees
lighting a town with our scream.
If there’s a tragedy, it’s not knowing brokenness
through the spread of time
and the fine-grained power of pain
smooths our rind,
makes us whole again
for the journey onward
The Death of Things
(Published Cedar Hill Review, 1998)
The long green arms flex
pulling the Monarch close, subduing its flutter
between prayerful hands.
I’m watching as the Monarch watches the Mantis
eat her eye, remove her face.
Rendered motionless, I like the way this works
on me, thrumming my fibers as I ingest the horror─
the Monarch half inside the Mantis
or is it the other way around?
Is it both?
To eat a live thing, swallow its shudder,
closes the gap between.
Would we surrender to the fangs
of some alien thing bent over our fear,
taking its thirst from us,
reeking the relief of its hunger?
No evil intent here.
Just the sweet and awful chant as we merge
like the passionate murmur of lovers.
Unsettle Me
As the first glint of sunlight hits window panes
gaiety and laughter tumble out of houses
like effervescent bubbles escaping from a can of cola.
Too much bleached brightness has me yearning
for purple storms descent
into my underlying frontier—
apse, cornices, and holy smoke
of frankincense and myrrh
drifting through my inner sanctum.
Give me uneven edges
where the fathomless unknown flourishes
in the cracks and crevices.
Give me uncultivated places
where things grow in the lees and dregs
without restraint.
Give me some hide and husk
to finally unsettle me from my moorings
Leatrice Evanne Asher 