Evocation
As beautiful as the idea of a shoulder,
the skin of a cup that mirrors the spine,
the spartan stone confesses
stubbornly in the dead limb.
It was not milled oats, it breathed.
It rubbed and pleaded with the sea's tears
it was serrated and sandy
glad levity inviting the barbarian stranger.
It was beautiful as the shoulder of cattle,
between the grass and flies,
between the light of August as dreamed in April
and, and, it was only the palm of her hand.
__________________________
Erin Moure
from Super Gay Poems
edited by Stephanie Burt
Harvard University (Belknap Press)
2025
