[诗歌]   Seed

alvinwoolf

by Anne Marie Macari

After the wave there’s the tide-pool in the ribbed
cup. Now I own what you left me and I’m
salt-rimmed, stained, lit by small hands trying
to feel their way inside, floating on the black
ocean beneath pelvic blood-stars. Because
I’m trying not to lose any, I sleep
against you to be the child on your back,
to be the fur on your skin, the eyes of your
shoulders. If I am the wolf drinking the milk
of darkness around your head, then you are
the lamb; or if I am the lamb then you are the wolf,
howling all night in my ear for the ordinary life.
I say to you: let your seed sprout from my lungs,
let me bear the strange animal of our love.

alvinwoolf

Anne Marie Macari

Anne Marie Macari's first book, Ivory Cradle, won the APR first book prize in 2000. Her second book, Gloryland, was published by Alice James Books in 2005. Her poems have appeared widely in literary magazines and, in 2005, she won the James Dickey Award for poetry from Five Points magazine.