Olivia | The Pool

TWO POEMS

Olivia Moscicki

Mortal Fascination Part 2

scent memories tugged me back

— blood scents

but, beside me in the pew sat not blood but Age

warm and sour dust in perma-rot

his fetid whisperbones fed my thoughts and churned

themselves into absolutes

and their opposites

Rage and Need sleeping face to face

Need (to know to have to be had)

working to transform herself

into Immense Love

while she lay dreaming

I bounced in my pew

(undone)

unable (wanting) to hold

all

this

dust

Tomorrow will be lush

heavy puddles aren’t as cute

pooling as I

step

and land

heavy

I sometimes know

there are femurs in my thighs

but Today those bones are vacant

and aching, whistling as I walk

rolling up hill

makes my neck hurt

lashes whisper

plump and pleasant

to my cheek

when eyelids touch

only sparks can see me then

and my blush-winged

fingertips are peachy pleased

one Today ago

was cool, untethered

now I want

to find a pool of wet sun

and swap my bones for it

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