Celestina Cordova

Sparrows and children

and puddles

and sudden thaw.

Sap is the burden of spring.

The branch that breaks

spring enters.

There is

there is

in me

somewhere

my form of spring,

a set hand shaping.

I'm a quarried stone
I'm held up
for inspection
in a level
of yellow light.
Celestina Cordova
is a hawk's eye
among women.

My spring is an ocean
of image
the rich surf breaks.
I ask to be molded
I seek a nobler form.
Celestina Cordova
wants heroes
Greek
carved in stone.
I am
they are
possibly
in a shade of light.
The young women
the troupes of blond
Circe's women
do not want war.
I myself am less sure of thaw.

Celestina Cordova insists
I accept the form.
She is adamant
altogether.
I examine stone
propped up
for the hammer and chisel.
I am beveled light.
She poses herself
among poppies
a model for women.
I imagine faces
and flowers
that exceed
the thaw.
Her face
her face
hers melts.
The damp ground breaks.

Celestina Cordova
must teach me
to talk of stone.
I cannot do so
properly.
Expensive light
squandered in drinking
the night
given over
to women
all my tools are dull.
A dream of poppies
revives me.
The thaw wakes me early.
I note it is noon
before she breaks
her morning bread.
I must die
to achieve
such form.

She is much
like the ocean
or bare ground
after a thaw.
From a distance
I see the rise
and fall of stone.
Small birds rejoice
for a moment
a small surf breaks.
I detect a failure
a blemish
inside the form.
Inside the skirts
move the muscular
legs of women.
Celestina Cordova
is a tent
pitched on
moving light.

The same way
I think of children
as tentative light
dancing on roof tops
on puddles
on sap flow.
Breaks in the mirror
distort
luxurious skins
of women.
There is pantomime
in reflection
periodical form.
A sparrow
becomes a body
sung by a stone.
Celestina Cordova
was born
to give form
to thaw.

A sudden thaw
legs moving
periodical form.
A surf
repeatedly breaks
on the broken
stone.
Celestina
daughter of light
you have me
drowning in women.