Tuesday poem #242 : Kate Siklosi : [ fig (iterative)

time holds the wake dearly.

syllables congeal

into smooth stamped clauses

to translate the weather of a face,

hand.

bite, nail.

the vagrant and executive

never change

but grammatical lines are traversed

like ions across a circuit maze

between the sun and lately

i fast on roses

to eat the me in meaning is

an

i n g

must you tie my hands

to your book

bury my river with your sands,

to come up for water.

for language is more difficult

than space

more fluid

than the body

yet transparent against

the ground of

Kate Siklosi lives, writes, and thinks in Toronto. She holds a PhD in English Literature but has defenestrated from the academic ivory tower in search of warmer climes. She is a writer by day and a poet by night. Her first chapbook – a collection of really neat letraset poems – is coming out with above/ground press this spring. She is the cofounding editor of Gap Riot Press and is currently working on a manuscript of experimental petro-poetry, Love Songs for Hibernia.

the Tuesday poem is curated by rob mclennan