A Poetry Sporadical of Repeating Forms
A Poetry Sporadical of Repeating Forms
Give me around. Take your leather from me;
give me around. Take your leather from me,
lace my heart and stop my dragging.
Lace my heart and stop my dragging.
Give me your leather, take from me my lace
and stop dragging my heart around.
And when a bell rings its thunder-like raining,
and when a bell rings its thunder, like raining,
the night only happens through Rhiannon.
The night only happens through Rhiannon.
Thunder only happens when it’s raining
and Rhiannon rings like a bell through the night.
And you go, left by the wind like a memory is.
And you go, left by the wind like a memory is:
a strand that for all days is in the now,
a strand that for all days is in the now.
The days go by like a strand in the wind
and a memory is all that is left for you now.
Stop, Rhiannon. Take the days in me. Give
my leather a go. Left is when it’s raining,
for the night is a bell and rings from all the thunder,
like me. And you wind through my heart
like a lace strand now, and that only happens
by dragging your memory around.
James Wilk s a physician in Denver, Colorado, specializing in medical disorders complicating pregnancy. He is the author of two chapbooks, Shoulders, Fibs, and Lies (Pudding House Press, 2008) and The Seven-Year Night: Poems of the Medical Training Experience (Big Table Publishing).