Residence of New Hollows
I. Clay Motion of Naps
Fragmented, slovenly
under-visions arouse under
the crimp of the eyelashes lulled shut. The crest bone seamed; a ladder tilted
into the fine enclave of ribs
enclosing a male creature of fabricated weight. Draw sound into her,
through
to a solemn, double-bodied nap.
Lines recede towards a recessed cry.
Earlier heaviness left — wet-nape —
surmise a face of marker, or ballpoint pen. Sleep dealt
the strangest reality of gesturing. Deeper,
the dominion smacked
ripe, open;
earth of the floor saw the luster in fresh eyes.
Knees were first to hit; desires to lick as cat, marvel in sin
to quench by tap and drink, dress in blouses, wear rage in subtle blare,
a silent teeth-mad you assent to deny.
Awaken, version
of mostly telling,
wide, lolly eyes. Stood in the green
entryway, bleached light
hung: Fireshone and split
the day awake. Pathetic, ripe,
a body-stick drafted headless, thus nameless,
blotted out by the hottest artist: Sun.
II. Auspice
Drudge of rooms,
lessen;
the saintliness thickens of the bedroom.
Wall rinds stipple in places, an advent to the wiry heat. Conversely,
dropping in temperature, the fruit leaking flan
of the blanket —
sections of osprey remnants filter
in slow suspension of furred air.
The body cold and svelte,
clout of her neck, grips the sheet — upwards
and wrapping it to her long, now blueing
white stem.
Serum chills.
Tin body waits, lavish and cold-silver; finally rubbed and eaten supple.
An erotic stillness grinds and behooves;
above it, her hair like the walls,
live and aglow.
III. Residence of New Hollows
Telephone wires
deport
and still.
Elope
with objects:
So lax
and gravelstain
went the portrait of us dining through the evening.
Ream cut into
with corrugated spacing;
lilts up day slice,
seep,
a cold foliage
sun blue stilts
the creepy sailors manipulating along.
Blandish beacon
in the swatch southward.
Its dimlight drones
then primness,
its cut-cross
then pricks alive grass —
rove away, wary and high at the shed.
Emily Shevenock lives in Brooklyn, New York. Previous writing appears in Primavera and is forthcoming in Burn. contact
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