Wound / Corinne Wohlford Taff

03Oct09

If I have loved, it is mostly
because that is what I have
called it.

The night I left, you pressed three
scars to the inside of my wrist and said
It will be different with you gone.

Later I marked time by their fading.

But it was lazy, making you beautiful
that way. I was reading words
backwards—lover, almost
revolve, almost
evolve,

and I couldn’t believe in things.

The magnolia
makes me cringe: the perfect cup
of its opening. Its center
the deepest color. I love—
love it—

but the mind,
Mobius-stripped,
unhinged, and unhinged,
is substituting.

Advertisements


No Responses Yet to “Wound / Corinne Wohlford Taff”

  1. Leave a Comment

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s


%d bloggers like this: