Two Poems
Anna Sears
[Total Pages: 2]
Sears Page 1

Nearest the Wick

All of us
pink-palmed, fragile
sealed in private flame:
a brain blazes
a groin smolders
a heart falls to ash

If a poet can dowse
sleep's terrain,
could a poem soothe sapphire:
hottest part of fire?


After Reading Paul Celan

Dream snow
in mulberry cave

driven out
still burning
break words open
sleep in attic
no roof

icicle shatters skylight
each shard
frostfashioned
blooms

dismembered
goldswept