Article 1

A Woman Dies At The Bus Station (While He Looks On)
0901.2013

String tight tension
Runs through lanes of
The pink pillar -
Last thump of blue then red
Where in and out life is plural,
Where the clamped stem of a
Scarlet carnation to the unknown hours
And bloomed explosion
Is un-cogged and surrendered -

The field before early
With bloom’s garments
Fastened green to rooted bines
Below day’s dropped gold,
Where lovers with their languages
Press to each other inside a spin,
Because the dance is singular
And the tune made from fire –

It was just after the feet
Stood to step back into citified life,
Where the bus let us graze hands
And see into whom we were complete for.





- Marni De Ambershay