Consort
       

I am the disease that confirms
evening is normal and desirable.
Evening, which behaves
like an odor or taboo
then crushes a hillside into its breast,
and all the hillside's murmuring towers,
the ten grazing horses locked to its base.
Who isn't bullied now and then by the soft
slurry dialect of stars which are lodged
in the sky and my side?
In the sky, orphaned kites never smell
gender or kiss any mouth that swallows
me whole. I let go of each kite,
resenting my hand.

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Copyright © 2012 Tanya Larkin All rights reserved
from My Scarlet Ways
Saturnalia Books
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission