Her (the) sun A confrontation between a man and woman A poem by Josephine Olson He, the moon, cut her chin like he didn’t want to hurt her He lifted her jaw up--and They gaze into each other Him: (mouth unmoving even though he speaks), mountains parting to reveal small teeth over lips, head cocked and eyes ‘a questin’; unmovin’ Her: jawline taught tendons lips closed (even though she’s found other ways to speak); defiance and eyes stone-like, like a marble wall or statue He’s never known her to look at him like that before: all ugly White, stone arching up into oh so delicate features She’s pretty like blood The kind the moon draws from his knife tip, an artist, as water with a terracotta vase Pretty in the way her as a figurehead at the prow of a ship looks In the way she scowls, daring the bathing creatures to scorn her You open flesh that only shows her sun And you Are blinded.
20 | UNTOLD
