By Catherine Strisik
I am naked against
and generosity of stars
now silver now
to the tilt
he has no syllables
no sigh for.
And then I say because you are green lacewing
and I am hammered pole and you flail translucent
wings with veins and I carve
self-portrait with small frame
bolt-slender of pitch and dry cells
and pause and breath and pause and breath and you
say but I am metamorphic and I say I am.
Catherine Strisik, award winning poet, author of The Mistress (3: A Taos Press, 2016) New Mexico/AZ Book Award for Poetry 2017; Thousand-Cricket Song (Plain View Press 2010, 2nd printing, 2016); Insectum Gravitis (Main Street Rag, forthcoming); co-founder/co-editor Taos Journal of International Poetry & Art; nominated for a Pushcart Prize; numerous publications include Journal of Feminist Studies in Religion, Drunken Boat, Connotation Press: An Online Artifact, Tusculum Review, Poet Lore; teaches poetry workshops in northern New Mexico.