What His Wife Looks Like
Talia Reed

A routine of curve-fill and become.

The silent splitting open and
spilling out, the flesh
and soul ripened.

I wear this diadem of sun;
a washing out.

It breaks each yoke,
uncovers each mantle
in which we drape ourselves.

This is the twisting stream into which
we melt.

1996 © 2008