First Woman: I. First Woman Katja


Hated                    full of doorways
by the student

She said, blind pouch
of cells, has the easy virtue
stuff going in,
stuff coming out

He bled but
she exploded, nest of veins and arteries
his hand was useless
the aphasia cut his speech
into magic, blood shot the ventricles
fireworks plumped the backs of her eyes
disks swollen like the smug thalamus
knows all its own nuclei
even as they’re effaced

light squeezed out of the brainstem,
her gaze separated,
he said, take your secrets
run them off to bed

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February 2002 2River