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December 17, 2013

Two Poems

Rae Gouirand


The bone goes dark
deep in the crook—I cannot

hold the quiet
longer, bear my side while

she insists. But
how entire she becomes,

how present
force beneath gentle skin.

I want
to read. A person

beyond what we agree.
I am not just this body. She is

not just her restraint.
I want to meet everything

there is for the first time
the accuracy of dying inside

I can celebrate that.
Leave the lights on even

feel my relief at
what I am called, at a self ruled

by something
besides an ever-present self.



At its hardest, water doesn’t move—
freedom of form for density of word.

The middle force of the core is all vowel.
If the question were would I choose

my love or hers, I’d go unanswered,
unconsoled, ice on a stove.