Tit, with Blue Guitar | Maureen Seaton

$ 7.00

Maureen Seaton has authored seventeen poetry collections, both solo and collaborative—most recently, CAPRICE: COLLECTED, UNCOLLECTED, AND NEW COLLABORATIONS (Sibling Rivalry Press, 2015), with Denise Duhamel. Her awards include the Iowa Poetry Prize, two Lambda Literary Awards, the Publishing Triangle’s Audre Lorde Award, Society of Midland Authors Award, Illinois Arts Council grant, and an NEA Fellowship. Her work has been honored in both the Pushcart and Best American Poetry anthologies. She teaches Creative Writing at the University of Miami, Coral Gables, Florida.

 

 

Tit, with Shelf Life

 

I think of it as a tiny Earth. A typhoon in a glass globe.

I think of it as blood beneath a door, faces on a vaulted ceiling.\

I think of it as a severed head, toe bone of a sloth.

I think of it as frightened, a twitchy metaphor, frightening. (Boo!)

I think of it as a random bird impaled on a random tree. (Hawthorn.)

I think of it as a celestial non-sphere: Phobos (fear) or Deimos (terror).

I think of it as a soul unraveling, newly dead (or newly born).

I think of it as a rogue wave, a (God) particle accelerator.

I think of it as a pit harboring a fruit tree. (Plum.)

I think of it as Ω or π or any transcendental body. (Uncountable.)

I think of it as Pu sliding off a freight train. (Plutonium.)

I think of it as a haunting, a bell tower. (A bell.)

I think of it as a pike with ulcerous flesh and missing eye.

I think of it as a cell whispering: I am in everything. Everything am I.