Maura Gage

 

Snowflakes

Her snowflake earrings
glitter like a holiday
in electric glow
of hotel lobby.
She kisses her husband,
twirls her bracelet around,
then drifts like light snow
falling behind him
as they flurry and drift
into the lounge;
they sink into velvet
chairs and order.
Her bright blue dress
entices him like silk or satin;
they don't talk but sip,
watch others dance--
through the glass--
the loud music
pulsing through. The hard
wet bodies move in time
to the beat, beat, beat
sound of the streets.
They move closer together
as they watch,
sipping drinks and remembering
how they met once
through their own tiger dance,
wild as cats,
claws out--mixing
pleasure and pain.

 

Just Before It Rains

He lights her cigarette,
pours her martini,
watches her long
muscular legs as
she pulls away
and then steps lightly
towards him.
She undresses
slowly, piece by piece,
until she's naked
by the window,
the neighbors
just outside
the bluing sky--
clouds beyond the building
over the bridge like
                     intricate lace.

 

Into the Light

All the leaves fall hard
like elegance or fire
swirling madly in wind--
as birds fly high
through the narrowed streets,
to the sky, silhouetted
through the steeples--
sun coming
into the shadowy darkness,
and her voice singing
from human pain and joy--
the essence of all of us--
caught in the shadows
of our hearts and minds,
our hands and arms
trying to pull us
into the light.

 

Flying

In the midnight blue
of sparkling stars
we understood every
seed, every molecule,
every part of the world
and ourselves.
Everything made perfect
sense as we held hands,
looked outward together
into the eternal dark
and light of night,
infinite sky and stars,
infinite water
like grace,
a beautiful ship
lighted in the darkness
gliding, gliding
by us, far out,
an omen of goodness,
a quiet symbol
that smooth times
and easy sailing
would lie ahead before us;
after the suffering,
normalcy returns
for a while,
a new love
after a long heartache,
and we are flying--
two dolphins in the ocean.

 

Drifting

Making love far away
from where anyone
could find them,
they rocked like waves
in patterned rhythms,
sped up until
all the oceans
and they were one
flood of energy
waving, shimmering, rushing,
pulsing, quivering, cradling,
stopping, slowing down,
holding, drifting, drifting
into peaceful dreams.




maura gage

The Louisiana Review

 

     Maura Gage is an Associate Professor of English at Louisiana State University at Eunice. She is also editor of The Louisiana Review. She has lived all over--Pennsylvania, Colorado, Florida, South Carolina, and, for the past four years, in Louisiana in a small town just a few exits west of Lafayette. She is a big fan of www.the-hold.com.

click here for
Creative Writing Poetry Submissions
and Paper Proposals on Popular Culture Poetry
Poets for the 2003 Popular Culture Association Conference
to be held in New Orleans, Louisiana.

Louisiana Review review w/ michael basinski


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