Poetry Suite by Elena Caban
“lay with me in the red, the hot-salt noon.”
Poetry by Elena Caban
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return to varadero
hard bulk of a black ship in lead rain, the. prow a split-woman, red wood, no palm
full breast, no eye
but this: a white sea-sun, rough glare of the shore.
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foal
the dark, sweet blood, the. flies, tree-rot, the wound. her mud-hooves, my own sweat-palms.
i pray: oh mother, oh soft and stupid muzzle, go on: love the bone-legs, your whimpering blue.
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the cabin
sleet, thick logs, dead car. we kill screen doors
with shovels. at night, we flee
chase black, slow bears, tell moon to slice her face.
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emma's lament
rock-face, languorous tongue, i. love your silk-palm, cool teeth, your glacial
mass: love, i beg you: blot the ink, the pear-slick word, and. come: lay with me,
unspeaking: lay, lay with me in the red, the hot-salt noon.
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the death of sappho, or to history
rock-ledge, the wheat, hurt gold, i lift my arms, cracked lips, and
take me split me i will be flesh, torn linen, red surf
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sappho and cleis
and, i, i am with girl-child, a dark, sweet plum. hurt, my lips, my mother-tongue, and.
darling, let me: i will bring you out on white, clean snow.
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the gift
in may, loose clap. of the dull-wings,
hard fur. now, shot eyes will seek the bright
fat bugs held out by moon.
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Header image courtesy of Angela Buron. To view a Photography Feature of her work, go here.
Elena Caban is a poet and visual artist. She is currently an MFA student at Queens College, City University of New York. Her work has previously appeared in The Acentos Review, Instigatorzine, PDXX Collective, and Wordgathering.