Wrists and Ankles
by Laura Klebanow
Wrists and ankles
are equivalent:
same frailest skin, and with paper-thin illumination from
subterranean veins.
Each jointed sensuality, as in,
a slice of ankle glimpsed in the gap between pant leg and high heel
from a luncheon bench at midday or
a Ray Charles bracelet-ed grip with
pads of fingers, receptors of femininity.
Yet, each fatal in their accessibility,
their vulnerable lack of fortressed self-defense, as in,
Achilles and his mortal wound,
Virgin Suicide Cecilia
reclining in her pinkish tinted tub
stranded Rothko,
laid out among palette and canvas,
their razorblades abandoned.
Posted by: Laura Klebanow

Poetry (August 23rd, 2005)