—
Her glowing head I watered
maneuvering fear
the very bottom ones
where the sun gives
and the moon takes
the ground becomes
self-image
So difficult watching her walk in that fearful
mottled dress hardly swaying
in sag full of intimacy
I watered the last shard
“and in the missing name ”
wolfing became genesis
—
It didn’t begin
To start beginning
pick me an animal
I can enter
with a spooled heart
as if washed and groomed by twilight
wearing silhouette I once identified with
Pluming antennae
the wolverine
brushing with scent
and ragged reprieves
and the stir-less elks
flushed summer coats
bedazzling frictionless
Isabel Sobral Campos first arrived in the U.S. from Portugal to study music. She was a jazz guitarist. Now she teaches literature at the CUNY Graduate Center, writes poems and lives in Brooklyn. Her academic work deals with belief and modernity, mostly in relation to Baudelaire and Dickinson.
At the edge of a great snowfield Louie Otesanek grew different shapes and shades. His palms are wide and dark and mingled with the highest sky. See more of his work here.
gobbet 