Small Precious Creatures / Elegy for Something Not Yet Come Rascal 2017-09-17T17:36:23+00:00
Small Precious Creatures
Come back I want to say to myself. Before it’s too late. Before you are too far into the pines, before you step on the pelvic bones of small precious creatures and can’t see his face anymore. It will be enough;
it has to be. You’ve forgotten twilight in all this blinding dawn. You’ve forgotten that figs are the true fruit of the underworld, that pine needles sound of rivers as they shift.
That the soul can be bruised and buried, is two-faced like the coin—like Charon’s payment. But he will tell you to turn back. Because it is enough—this love. Even the gods concur.
Elegy for Something Not Yet Come
When I shed blood on those sheets of yours I stood and thought of all of the things I couldn’t give you. Watched your hands move over the secrets of me that even I will not look directly at.
I talk about petals and coffee grounds but this is the raw of it: some parts of my flesh will rebel against your love no matter how deeply I drink it. Lives ago I read you in the entrails of crows and mollusks, their bodies dark and fragrant. I will grow you sweet dumplings and blue hubbards. Snap peas and artichokes. On my knees in the dirt, praying. Shedding blood and skin in thin sheaves like the insides of eyelids. I had only peonies to look forward to. I spent all of those seasons dreaming of the way you touched me and took what you touched, never bringing you with me past the dawn.
Sarina Bosco is a chronic New Englander, myth hoarder, whiskey drinker, and hiker. When not writing she’s teaching. When not teaching she’s baking. Occasionally there are naps.