I put water through a sieve, too.
I had no body,
but saw things go through, where the thick bottom layer
was a veil.
That's to say that the figures are backwards
by virtue of the angles put in front of us.
In the single other life I bent over and looked
back through my legs at what pursued me.
The kinds of water that permeate water,
the branch held in front of every shot,
the blossom that runs after,
the branch of the river.
I saw through the pinkness of the strait.
Elizabeth Robinson
read the author's Bio and Working Notes
go to : Lesbia's Sparrows, Easter Woman, Immolation or Electrical Things.
go to this issue's table of contents