Sdepan Keshishian: Contortionary

 I go there, also. searching through framed seashores Bent, 
 digging through rubble under bare heels and dust

 faints buzz like faints 
 buzz fuzz light fixtures

 I can't recall an instance, displaced six thousand miles-
 a six hundred millimeter dash to the closet wall,

 where the sun shines more content Bent,
 at right angles.

 Words leak and falter, alter
 like borders. hoards of tight corners.

I felt a woman - made of earth, sword and skirt,
dead and mapped, giving birth. We carved out a piece of the sun 

 to carry a long
 forever






Sdepan Keshishian, Boston, 2008