Odette, Sonia
Odette:
Sieve head daughter,
catching flickers of light
with your fingers,
popping them into your mouth
they dissolve on your tongue
taste like memory,
cotton candy whatchamacallit,
something sweet
mother says it’s bad for me,
the light hums bright, coming back
to whisper lullabies tonight,
driving back the darkness in droves of
cloudless thunder,
you shake; you shiver--
he’s down by the river,
wake in silence and shadow,
tremble like a knife
waiting to unsheathe.
---
Sonia:
Have you ever watched the dancers onstage at the ballet?
How each little missus knows her way,
around on her toes predisposed to grace and sway,
with their arms uplifted,
giving silent praise?
This is the manner in which Sonia moves,
her sweeping arcs direct and full of grooves
where the knives kissed deep
and put to sleep
all intent for puppetry behooves
the careless flow of her long red hair,
devouring night after night; beware
the way she eats up death
washes it down under her breath
with sing-song carousel flair
Turning, turning, turning
and trying not to care.
