Sunday, November 25, 2012

Justin Petropoulos Poetry and thoughts on Movement

[the once bare window]


She watches the moon melon and the rind of oaks. At this stage of the man­u­fac­tur­ing process the edges of bod­ies are marked. Her legs the shut­ters for the once bare win­dow, tak­ing hinge in the frame. Light swal­lowed hard away behind them.
She feels the house, their foun­da­tion, arthritic, set­tling. Afraid, she wants for the oth­ers, desires them—wants them to run, but they just watch her strug­gle. This process is known as reading.
There is applause. You can see it in their eyes. The faucet for­gets basin-ward. She has them like a dream. The shut­ters kick. As part of the stamp­ing operation.
Reading intends. A mea­sure, dis­cour­ag­ing. The shav­ing or clip­ping of bod­ies was unsanc­tioned. She opens her mouth and creaks, but­tons down her sweater, cra­dles the oth­ers awake.

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