The Gift

The Gift. © Chris Bronsk 2015.

“I love sun & rain on my skin. My suitor
& conjuror, is that the burden, the curse,
the gift? Does wisdom make my eyelashes
tremble, does it draw the blood forth, unearth
temptation? When innocence measured me
from crown to a dancer’s arch, the Furies
marked my path. He said my name
& the day turned to gulls crying—stolen
out of his mouth and into mine.
I am my own communion wine & bread.”

—Yusef Komunyakaa, from “Flesh” in The Chameleon Couch

(from an ongoing series of transit passengers)

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