We put our tongues to the frozen
pain of this world,
ice-burnt, confused, recoiled
as choices swirled before us in a hase.
We must transcend or fall
beneath these insults
of all we attempt
to know but of which
we are ultimately ignorant.
Lo, if we haven’t accessed wings
with which to rise from
these hardened truths, such a harsh affair with
strange things man made and
worlds that stop us without warnings.
A child tumbles,
hits cement and
the knees cry blood,
clamors for witnesses,
comfort of a mother,
demanding reassurance
We are imprisoned for times
by gravity;
brains and bodies not
created for flight,
though this offends our fancy.
What rises must fall;
we are forced to return,
leave this strange
home away from home
to perish the accomplished,
belongings, leave last
the crumpled body
surrender to the failure
to remain on two haunches
_
Forced into submission,
may those who remain finally
accept being held by the unknowable
rather than holding to
all that knows how to fly
From First Love to its destructive end and on to new beginnings, Mary Angela Nangini's poems explore the birth and death of a relationship. The powerful poems are presented in two parts with an introduction to her next book My Ontario Beautiful. (Th
“The woman or man who is a poet, or fiction writer, or playwright, or all of these, is engaged constantly in a jazz ballet of vocabularies, passions, genders, histories, perspectives, death, love, and life. The music of revelation announces itself to
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