the minnesota review n.s. 50-51 (1999)

Lois Marie Harrod

Venetian Blinds

I like the way the light binds the skin,
makes a bird cage of the body.

The stripped neck patches of the common loon,
the sooty shearwater's pleated wing.

I raise my arms, bound at the wrist,
breasts float the dark ripples.

When I hold my breath, I sink under the buoy
that divides shallows from the deep.

At the pool's bottom I wear the spirals
of my own descent, my eyes ribbon open.

Five fingers slit the sun,
My crazy lover is wearing his brindled suit.

I explain how I will throw his shadow
onto a cloud, it will take a stiff light.

He holds his mouth just so—
My words find their prison.