Karen Rigby

Two Poems

Paradise is a Bullet Train

The slice of a parted mouth.

The white peafowl
           on a manor lawn. Honeydew steeped
                          in its own sugar.

Cold front in a high rise town.

Paradise is a man like plaited wire.
                          Stripped to his bowstring
                                         back and fevered lungs.
                          Superb, elegant hands.

I want a man who sets sharp teeth
           against the day like an archangel holds fire.

           I want the level mind
                                         that won’t give in

to despair. Kisses concrete
           if it has to. Dear tongue

weighted with parables. Dear seam of an open shirt.

Paradise is a bullet train aimed at vermillion.

          Hinge of a collarbone. Notch
                                                           so pure it hurts.


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