The BlueIris Semi-Nightly Poetry Break, 10/27/08

[BlueIris]

"The Brain of My Ex-Husband"

No 4-H cauliflower comparison here, no issue
of health or stalk. Not a large fish grasped
in a joyous Kodak: in shape more like
the tunnel the government plots to build
where protons careen off one another
like drunken go-carts. More like a lane
with penalty boundaries, where heavy balls hurtle
toward an end. A hard thing full
of small, a foot
of many bones in a boot. With length: a torpedo prone
in a museum, full

of itself, of its own
disuse. Black ice: a sleeve of steel, a door
tacked with deadbolts, or the stiffening eel lying cold
on the shore. The flint

in the profile of his sleeping face, he whom I wrestled with once
in the dark.

—Terri Ford

[mokawanis]

1. I'm liking that one

thanks for posting

[BlueIris]

2. Awww, thanks. nt

[BlueIris]

3. Kick.

[BlueIris]

4. Kick.