Survivor at the Burning Cistern
http://www.maverickmagazine.com/articles/30/1/Survivor-at-the-Burning-Cistern/Page1.html
Ramón E. Martínez
Ramón E. Martínez grew up in New Mexico and Arizona. Poems from his full-length collection, The Receipt of Fern Seed have appeared in: A Poetry Mag, American Poetry Review, Balcones, Bilingual Review, Black Warrior Review, Cape Rock, Century, Contact II, Croton Review, Gila Review, Glens Falls Review, Graham House Review, The Greenfield Review, Inlet, Inscape, Panoply, Rio Grande Writer's Newsletter, Riversedge, Víaztlan, and the Virginia Quarterly Review. He is currently seeking a publisher for The Receipt of Fern Seed.By Ramón E. Martínez
Published on 10/1/1999
Deeper and deeper into your own distance
you tumble, swinging a dented dipper
into buckets of smoke. What's the answer?
You don't believe in water, only
in secrets if you can't have one. So the fire
is transgressing, and you turn around inside it,
you tumble, swinging a dented dipper
into buckets of smoke. What's the answer?
You don't believe in water, only
in secrets if you can't have one. So the fire
is transgressing, and you turn around inside it,
Deeper and deeper into your own distance
you tumble, swinging a dented dipper
into buckets of smoke. What's the answer?
You don't believe in water, only
in secrets if you can't have one. So the fire
is transgressing, and you turn around inside it,
amazing and deep. If you invented a sister,
a witch to outlast you, you'd pass on your grace,
involvement with embers, mystery.
Cameo in charred coral, a Psyche knot
at your neck, devious arson
at heart, you ladle
gray orchids from ash. This
is your error: you dream too long
of the galvanized pail, scooping your life
out of cinders, speaking
the language of women. You say: see
I am here--holding the scalloped shell,
hemorrhaging, but calm,
a rightful survivor.
Caught at a standstill, you must burn
the wonder you feel; you cannot drink from the
.......well
forever, fighting the chimney
and the clattering rain.
Copyright © Ramón E. Martínez, 1999, 2009. All Rights Reserved.
you tumble, swinging a dented dipper
into buckets of smoke. What's the answer?
You don't believe in water, only
in secrets if you can't have one. So the fire
is transgressing, and you turn around inside it,
amazing and deep. If you invented a sister,
a witch to outlast you, you'd pass on your grace,
involvement with embers, mystery.
Cameo in charred coral, a Psyche knot
at your neck, devious arson
at heart, you ladle
gray orchids from ash. This
is your error: you dream too long
of the galvanized pail, scooping your life
out of cinders, speaking
the language of women. You say: see
I am here--holding the scalloped shell,
hemorrhaging, but calm,
a rightful survivor.
Caught at a standstill, you must burn
the wonder you feel; you cannot drink from the
.......well
forever, fighting the chimney
and the clattering rain.
Copyright © Ramón E. Martínez, 1999, 2009. All Rights Reserved.