*GATOR SPRINGS GAZETTE
a literary journal of the fictional persuasion
A QUESTION OF BALANCE(page eleven)

POETRY AND ART
Elizabeth P. Glixman

Glixman centerfold from A Question of Balance

RITUAL OBJECTS

There is one hand clapping. The other is dancing in the night sky with blessed father be his name written all over its creases and incense dangling between thumb and forefinger in a lotus eat the wafer mudra pose. There is a mask worn at the ceremony and one women named Jane is bringing peaches jubilee to the event

There are bells that cannot make sound no matter how much she rings them. Perhaps it is because priestly robes drop to floors in secret rooms and the nakedness is blaring. No need for any more noise. It is almost time for Vespers.



    LILA'S BROTHERS

    Lila's brothers crush insect wings
    on her jet black hair crinkle letters
    from her boyfriend into the river
    Lila is not pleased
    She is dark faced and sullen
    rips petals from her brothers' dahlias
    Throws them in the wind
    Watches orange and white beauty evaporate
    Her brothers are tan and untouched
    They know petals like amputated legs
    leave phantom limbs
    Drowned letters hold no memories
    Lila peers into the river
    her back like a wall searching for words



YOU CAN'T TOUCH IT - OR CAN YOU?

Nothing is forbidden. It is not opened yet. A body soft and clothed, eyes outlined in black melts into the sky like gray seawater in winter. The harbor seals clap. This body is like his. Cold and slippery. She must swim he thinks.

In this softness of day leaving night without warning she shows haze. She is not defined like sand more like snow disappearing in climate changes volcanic ash.

She unfolds like laundry. There is no noise but waves hit each other as if they have known an intimacy. A soft blue light comes from her toes now above the horizon. I know it is her forbidden place that has come to life. She looks at her chintz rose robe. Its arms open in the sea yearn for him. She sees the flowers floating in the azure water. He calls her name. The soft green petals are flying to the sky in revelation. She dives deeper into the sea where he is waiting naked with arms open like an octopus.



    FRITO BANDITOS

    She lingers fingers folded in lace black hair tender
    Bandit men are wind,
    She is the hollow reed, no one can enter
    a cardboard mind, circular rivers want to forget
    Leaves blow on the plains,
    Smoke signals
    Shadowed men rope cattle, rest by fires
    graceless, they sleep with their women
    Pinch insects between yellow nailed fingers,
    Look at her and know
    She will come closer soon like thirsty cattle


© Elizabeth P. Glixman 2005

Elizabeth P. Glixman is a fine artist and writer. She used to work with children in educational art programs to support her writing habit and pay for her addiction to eating and shelter. She lives in Massachusetts in the same town where the rocket and birth control pills were created.

on to page 13   

back to THE GSG VAULT