Montreux Rotholtz

ARM

 

  • You’re right I am a cruel woman
  • Successfully the shadow steepled
  • it collapsed the jointed morning
  •  
  • like pith like the wet pity you get
  • when you split open a cactus
  • Where a girl twisted down
  • in a doorway she was cutting
  • off a mole with a safety razor
  • and periodically she said please
  •  
  • I am so sorry Sandi Lee
  • for the past for boneless fish
  • for oxygen for clay tiles
  •  
  • Let’s not speak in others’ voices
  • The fronds provide
  •                               fanged hope
  • a pain stimulus the rocky arc
  • like an ibis spiked with upward
  • like an ibis struggling
  •  
  • I went back to our house I had
  • left some belongings there
  •                               my mother’s silver
  •  
  • my mother compact in her silver
  • blueness on the valley’s uptick
  • Girls will be perpetual she said
  • dumping out the cut glass
  • fruit dish so the spines could eat
  • and the mud came rolling
  •  
  • You didn’t know but I stole
  • everything I looked at back then
  • the water pump the commonwealth
  •  
  •                                 spitting coal
  • Let’s not walk with others’ feet
  • the moisture burns let’s not look
  • back I see you in your shirtsleeves
  • digging a pit and praying while
  • shame follows you like your skin
  •  
  •                                  The axis said no
  • and out by the trees like a worm
  • my arm clung on like an arm
  •  
  • Like a worm my arm flicked
  • like a god
  •  
  • Your hair flickering you were
  •                              holding your belly
  • the ibis in it pitched
  • The rocky crop the fond plate
  • Now we are not strangers
  •                                I planted in you
  • that burnt wire that blue jolt
  •  
  • You’re right I am a cruel woman
  • spun with jewels and coal sluice
  • like my mother through whom
  • order spoke through her throat
  • wrapped with asphodel
  • her hair a shadowed window
  • Let’s not use the hands of others
  • Lemon-lit I am and lemon-spent
  • and you only thought
  •  
  • of yourself a protein a millipede
  •                                 the cold chemical
  • told the future like a stomach
  • Let’s not look back for fear
  • It comes anyway gravitational
  •  
  • Like a worm my arm my dirt arm
  • dug for the center of the dirt
  • I ate everything I saw back then
  •  
  • bitten lip eternal taste
  • of the sweet yam
  • I am so sorry Sandi Lee
  • for summer’s mark for death
  •                                for the sharpening
  • gold and for the open brain
  •  
  • In the doorway a woman
  • twisted down and periodically
  • her face was there
  •  
  • The stomach of my mother
  • is order is a cut glass dish
  • is a prism sturdier because
  • of the pieces taken out
  • Let’s not use the eyes of others
  •                                 wet and staring

 


MONTREUX ROTHOLTZ has had her work appear in jubilat, The Iowa Review, Denver Quarterly, the PEN Poetry Series, Fence, and elsewhere. She lives in Seattle.

Quantity:
Add To Cart