Shiva Diva's Blog

Poetry, Fiction
JUNE 20, 2011 3:10AM

Not a love song

The white mouths and lame blue eyes

of wild trillium take my measure.  Inside me,

the shoulders of bleak statues swell.  She is here.

Her blonde hair again.

We are old men, crumbled in our clothes,

ascending into skin like gratitude.

Our movements are slight, almost a shiver.Read full post »

JUNE 20, 2011 12:01AM

And Now, More Winter

A violent dream, staccato motions.

She’s a beggar, in a magnificent grave,

wind-scarred, and radiant. Now, silvery bones

in a burlap bag.

I wake from my grandmother’s yellowed fingers

to azure light from the window. I fall asleep

to scattering wings; to rhythms in the blood,

dark angelsRead full post »

JUNE 19, 2011 11:08PM

The Changeling

 

She walked uneasily among these

well-heeled rooms. 

The oval of her face glistened

in the dimmest lights, a thin gauze

of liquor astringent on her lips. 

Now, the snow that has glutted the lawn

no longer breaks beneath her heels. 

Apples spongy with decay fall

from theRead full post »

JUNE 14, 2011 9:09PM

Imagine Scorpio Rising

The hour before my birth, my father

raised his face to face my mother’s

Saying, “I can give you nothing.” If nothing is

The scent that lingers on a lover’s lips,

She smiled.

Redemption is the palest promise.

A light, thin as frost, rages in

The gatheringRead full post »

MAY 17, 2011 8:29PM

Long Distance 3 am

Alone in his arms in my grandfather’s house;

the musk of his body mingled with the odor of bourbon,

the smoke of his cigarette whirled above me.

He bounced me on his knee; he stroked my hair.

I was his little girl; he would return next year.

 

My father walked… Read full post »

MAY 10, 2011 10:55PM

A Wife, A Husband, A Raven

I

The house burns with her sickness,

goes bright with the fever of perished things

whirling in the dark to ashes.

Outside, hydrangea pulses in the sun

battering the windowsill

with its sex.

I stretch out a hand

to stroke her greasy hair,

unwind her again and again from… Read full post »

AUGUST 13, 2010 11:01PM

Olga's Room

We moved

toward the shadow looming

beneath the fringe of trees;

the wind, a cold shrill creaking.

That home

to hay and horses bent

and sagged as we approached.

The evening light burned out and died.

Grass clumped through cracks

in the concrete. The… Read full post »

MAY 30, 2010 8:33PM

The Wind in the Widow's Field

 I 

She buttons on a winter coat

determined now to go out of herself,

to enter the world of objects. 

She takes a branch for her companion, strides

through the pasture on the path of owls,  


past the plow in the fluted field,

past the white horse under

theRead full post »