Poetry at Sangam

SangamHouse

 










RECANT AT ST. MAXIMIN by Usha Akella

(for Eva)

So, this is the hinge-work of skin
in keeling flames, those the caves of eyes
slurping my pain, pitchforks like 
an alphabet staked in the ground
this is bone-sheen, 
like fishscale sear in yellow water; 


             the eyes want more, 
more pain, want  incantation to leave my lips to save myself 
so I can be tossed back in again     a penny in a wishing well
of epileptic flames but this is my mouth melting smile-grimace
I mouth something like forgiveness   curse
these are words melting this is how orange feels


I pour myself out of myself molten lava, 
scarlet-ribboned skirt
city of lightning, an orange waterfall; 
body-liquid-pain one.


I burst into petals of the sun, 
                  I throw comets from my
       navel, I am sprouting auburn blossoms
                                           I burn the day. I am hell,
              I am your air. 
                                     Centuries, breathe if you can.



USHA AKELLA