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Alizon Kiel

Laying on of Hands

Each fingertip drawn across my flesh
Each point of contact
Finds tiny silk threads looping in and out of my every pore
Mingling along the meandering pathways in his palm

My skin stretches and lifts
Heartbeats waft up and out with every breath

I am touched
He touches me

I am a poppet on a string
A semblance of my body animated
Through some magical sympathy

Soon he is a fetish of himself
And our effigies burn

Pixilated from sensation to sacrament
As they say, “A visible sign of an inward grace.”

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A Good Woman

Lit candles dimly
The artist portrayed a rotund sky
In little pointed stars and artificial moonlight

I remember seeing through once squinted eyes
The cloudy night steam
Hissing the exhaling day

Sidewalks hold their breath all day in the summer

I confessed the things I’d done under that artificial moon
Insisting convincing
Lord, let nothing take away

I am a good woman
I am a good woman
I am a good woman

This mantra Mary hears

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June to July

For Junealice Pardo-Vela passed July 4th 2010**

Without the turning of a month I remained a beautiful flower
My vase of narrow glass of narrow food and narrow light
This-too-shall-passing under a sun with slight movement
Slight lines slight light through an open shudder fell
Across a counter until I was only bright in places
And in others cast in shadow where my blossom’s edge began to fall away

But by the light of your window I held myself as straight as tall hiding petals as they fell within the glass
I was bright and smiled and you passed me
While I only hoped you were not afraid

But days do pass and inevitable seeds that flower in inevitable spring are picked and taken away to sit in windows in June
Even before July they start to set like the sun and by July the heat pushes down on them so hard that all they wilt can no longer be hidden

And it is then that you do see me
As sure as you see where I once was
For it is July and I have come to fall away

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