poems by Rena J. Mosteirin

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Monday, April 11, 2011

A Curse From the Bestiary

When this horse bites the white sides of another horse
the bites run black with blood and new vacancy. In another country,
men make horses fight in black and white.
Two bites like two dead eyes.

Bird, you can caw-haw-haowa but that's just crying. That's not flight.

The little boy with the face like a fox screams.
In black and white he bites your face
as men make horses fight in another country.

The sun comes out and the colors bleed back into the picture.
Sweet vacancy under a tree of blooming faces
sweet pear trees dropping rotten fruit on tombstones,
as he stands there looking like a small fairy-tale prince.
"A curse on you, a curse from the Bestiary," he says quietly, pointing.
Once you dreamed becoming a magnolia tree/ blooms as big as faces
but that was not to be. He could have turned you into a fainting goat
or a bird with no wings and no song. Now this is your future:

all of your lovers will turn into horses
with hunting men on their backs coming for you.
Your mother will sit by the window in the light of lamp oil
burning holes like eyes into the white side of the night.

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