Lisa Trudeau

Daphne on the Riverbank

Rooted to this muddy bank I muse on floods, hatchets, thunderbolts, veins of ants to tunnel through my pulpy flesh and nest inside what might have been my heart. Although I try it’s not easy to forget The body’s more excitable bits, how cool air kindles skin, or the dizzying thrill of limbs twisting nerve and flesh. Burled and broadened as I am something of the girl is left. Even now Apollo comes, plucks me when he needs to wreathe his radiant head. Assuming the quiver in my leaves is consent. I am diminished by silt and drought. Fixed. Inviolate. The seasons ride me –flower, fruit, and seed, While ravens roost to peck and shit.

After reading “Study: Songbirds' vocal muscles work like human singers'” by Brooks Hays

She began with vibrato, a trill in my brain Though it hurt here, between larynx and sternum, (A place I associate with soul) Like something falling through complicated change. Now she sits, her manner pitched perfectly to mine: Supernatural, side effect, algorithmic mistake, An existential complication comfortable in my favorite chair. I barely have time to recalibrate before She vanishes, without fuss, without word, without pain (just a twinge at my breastbone) As I believe wonderful things must. The room falls loosely around her space, re-scripted Back to ordinary dynamics, limited human range.

Mer

Personality Test, Part B 1.) Were you a happy child?

I lay in bed undisturbed for years 2.) Did you love your mother?

Her hair smelled of cigarettes and oranges 3.) Did you ever hurt anyone intentionally?

My limbs are scarred from impatience 4.) Do you feel remorse?

Amanitas bloom in the shade of the larch 5.) Do you empathize with others?

I felt her cold hands on my face 6.) Do you deliberately mislead?

In the film the man sits beside a crate of dead cats 7.) Do you feel superior to those around you?

We are little more than layered meat 8.) Do you fear death?

The moon distances itself from us four centimeters every year 9.) Have you ever been in love?

A human tongue has eight muscles 10.) Do you believe in God?

The voice in my head is always my own Not romance despite your mouth Falling into opening sound a bay Between wave and grain Rough as a cat’s tongue wet as a net Drawn through faunal seas Between wake and wave Surges stuttering habitual pace Crack eyes early crack eyes late grit Between break and wake Blood smells like kelp like moss So violet at the seam Between blade and break Pitching silver down deck Scaling coin for ferry realms This is not love despite the gleam This is where the story turns Between intention and blade