Arena Alamino
first fist
scared straight by my own opacity
i felt an almost unbearable tenderness
a stitch in the blood running counter to
a pivot a shift a breath transmuted
wilful desecration of the container and
a dream of the mute grey exterior of evening
it was almost enough to imagine a lost
weekend with you
a voyage out and the hull of a ship blushing
against soft pink rubble
but i think it’s catching
a parasitic envelope that pushes back
sweating against the brittle dysfunction of a
variable age
these projections do not defy close reading
and anyway it is an debasement
to go willingly into that defensive crouch
desire like scar tissue, the wary mare
surveys the torched crops
the generator starts up again
procession of the world
a prayer veil slips liquidly across my path
then snags in one of your canines
i cannot help but obey a certain presence
bent and trembling in that vast shadow
i do sing of you
i do
my voice flung out over this
dark lake tonight
indivisible elegy
another smashed leopard slug
summons you the mossed roof
suffused and incandescent
symbols went clattering at the foot
of the marital bed it goes
without saying it gets left
unsaid another for the pincushion
or a garland of wishes
for months i swept the needles
from the cedar wreath you
hung on the door
without your key
turning in the lock
birds the colour of rust
hem the power lines and
my sleeve shrouds a void
these days have a stain
sweet september rot and
the idea of cape breton
sustained and fragrant
arena alamino is a femme dyke poet living in mi'kma'ki (colonially known as nova scotia). her work explores themes of attachment, piety, transmission and loss."