Poetry

Bed of Coals: Poems by Joseph Hutchison

By Joseph Hutchison

Ebook through Hutchison, Joseph

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Page 34 Pausing Outside My Apartment Sun must be filling the room. A bright ray is streaming from the peephole. Daylight and dust. You can feel the earth turning under you at times. The roundness of anguish. Daylight and dust. It's like a dream. The key turns my hand. I open my life and go in. Page 35 The Effects of Light I've tacked Vermeer's Girl in a Turban to the wall above my bed, so that she can watch when I strip for sleep, or for lying back with a harrowing novel, or a woman, or my own sullen mind.

My network of lines spirals out . . sinks in the cold lake stretching between us, while I keep trying to swallow the fishbone moments of the pastas if I could live on loss. Yet it isn't loss, but fullness recalled to fullness again: my heart no starveling, though it hurts aches like a bulging net I strain to raise: memories hauled up over and over, quick and seething in the drowning air. Page 77 The Wound A fresh-fallen limb, the blossoms still on dim stars amid the restless green. Interrupting my therapeutic morning walk, I bent over it, touched the tender inner wood where the branch had fastened to its trunk.

Page 54 January 29 I dream her waking, mother-of-pearl sky through the uncurtained window. . ) She slips out from under the comforter, peignoir of bluegreen twilight . . quietly over the carpet then, to the stairway, and down to the kitchen. The dark is underwater gloom (I hold my breath), but then she flicks on the faint stovehood lamp. . A mist of blonde down gleams on the back of her neck, her head tilts pensively over the heating kettle. As though she could hear me, I move my lips: Body of a dolphin, breast of cloud.

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