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we found it in the attic one rainy afternoon we’d never seen anything like it i was trying to climb up and she was coming down and so we were stuck we felt very lonely and wondered if we could tip the ladder sideways without falling :: :: when’s the last time you saw god i said she said at least three months ago if not more when’s the last time you slept deeply and dreamt i asked – this morning my face had grown wings it said we are all thoughts about to be thought – :: :: we thought about our bed our cycle of falling asleep and waking next to each other’s bodies we were sure we had found the right body to sleep and wake next to sometimes we were the only ones in a crowded room :: :: it looks like winter i thought looks like the stars’ nightmares she said sometimes i am afraid for your body i said – i can teach you to read the skin of buildings it said: what matters is – :: :: sometimes we were with those who understood the problem of the ladder and the color of the stars’ nightmares and who laughed very loudly and lovely we were most honest when we held hands like that and left our kisses directly on each other’s skin Tamiko Beyer’s poetry has appeared in diode, The Sonora Review, Little Red Leaves, Copper Nickel, and elsewhere. She is a recipient of a grant from the Astraea Foundations’ Emerging Lesbian Writers Fund and is a Kundiman Asian American Poetry Fellow. She serves as the poetry editor at Drunken Boat and is pursuing an M.F.A at Washington University in St. Louis. Currently, she blogs at kenyonreview.org. |
