#Marcene Gandolfo

[contremineur]

I forget the taste of blood from a velvet peach, the bruised season's last hours. Now she's just a sun's afterimage. At first I thought I'd lost my own body, felt it slip with the wind. Then I began to practice the faith of bare trees, learned to enter winter, an empty cathedral, enter nights as dreams that sing in different shades of green.

Marcene Gandolfo, When she leaves, I think of Demeter in autumn

from here

[lifeinpoetry]

At first I thought I’d lost my own body,

felt it slip with the wind. Then I began

to practice the faith of bare trees,

learned to enter winter, an empty cathedral,

enter nights as dreams that sing

in different shades of green.

— Marcene Gandolfo, from “When She Leaves, I Think of Demeter in Autumn,” published in Glass

[miljuju]

At first I thought I’d lost my own body,

felt it slip with the wind. Then I began

to practice the faith of bare trees,

learned to enter winter, an empty cathedral,

enter nights as dreams that sing

in different shades of green.

- Marcene Gandolfo