Two Poems by Pauletta Hansel

Blocking the Dead

for Leslie, whose hacked email address lives on, though she does not

It seems unnecessarily cruel
like locking a closed window
between a moth and the lamp’s pale flame,
and I can’t help but think,
maybe, were she living, she would
have me click to be amazed,
open my bank account to royalty,
enlarge my penis,
take the years from around my eyes.
It has been years,
but there she is,
a joyful noise in my inbox,
Beloved,
I await your reply.

Storm

For Aralee Strange

I dreamed you here
one night         you were knocking,
you were knocking at the door
I opened
jagged bolt
of thunder       lightning
tattooed mouth to ear
across the one side of your
face all flat planes       sharp angles
like the door
you walked in and I said
(no    not said)
I cried am I dreaming am I
dreaming
dreaming you said
yes
and kissed me deep
as I stayed
sleeping
in my dream of doors that open
to the mouths of poets
no
one poet          you
who put your tongue
where mine was          storm
of your mouth into mine
awake now
what
would you have me say

 

 

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