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 featuresS

he’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.