
1 minute read
Her (the) sun
A confrontation between a man and woman
A poem by Josephine Olson
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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.