Page 66 - The Woven Tale Press Vol. IV #7
P. 66
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Originally published in her book A Woman By A Well
Dolphins
Like a silver bond of words adjusting to their meanings, I surf on the crest of the blood-wave above a bass-shoal near the sea-skin, brine blinding
my eyes. Clinging to the keel with vigilant sinews, I spruce it up to challenge
the wind’s weight. Suddenly, a school
of dolphins, pass me by, playing at pirouettes, smiling, whispering like trans-migrating spirits, perhaps, escaping the slaughter
of feud-driven men. With their calves, they will one day, reclaim their maimed bodies
from our bleeding beaches or become
our conditional foes like our drugged apes.
Originally published in her book A Woman By A Well
The Gingko
A temple of inner truce, the gingko recreates my passing time. Like the first fern forests, the gingko rejuvenates
my running, rowing rhythms,
my body-building rhymes. I daydream of the gingko’s time-seams,
the sylvan rings creating a time leap, and imagine the male gingko seeds
fitting their female knobs in the rain. The fern-knowledge of the seeds enters my poem’s virgin-bark, each re-appraised stem-page,
tensing my lines with the time-free strains of the present.
EMily bilMan
