The Markets of Remorse

I have spent another morning in the markets
of remorse trying to buy back a single afternoon

I search by the scent of her in September, her distance, her harbor

All I find among reflecting pools is
the eleventh day of our seventh year, and, then, that
is disturbed. Why would
blind feet take from me all that was left
to me

How did she become my Genesis. There were Jerusalems
before her, skin
diaphanous, pink transgressions and brooding
cupolas, inverted bowls
of gold, bowls
of bone; sunlight rearranging
expectations of stone, personifying, passing
over, leaving shadows the size and chill
of footsteps

white, its purpose, its challenge, the wisdom
and strategy of silk
embroidered with silk

a blouse, its curtain, its serene, sudden suggestion

I surrender each coin. I surrender face up:

I want that moment back. I would hurt
myself against the twin idols of her
knees to crack this

this same lean

poet and denouement

this confluence of blood

the glow of the hive to the bee

blue and open moutherd to the sea

veiled as I am between stands and sleep

this transhumance of her

the one she promised would be there

The Markets of Remorse [#25]
© 2007 Fammerée

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To experience a performance of Markets of Remorse
featuring guest artist Li-Young Lee
please visit:
and listen to selection #10.

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Richard Fammerée

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Photograph by Susan Aurinko

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