FOUR POEMS BY LYN LIFSHIN

FEEDING DUCKS, GREY NOVEMBER

no swath of light,

no smell of warm

wood shavings. A

rain-coming scent.

Last leaf in wind.

Walnuts on the deck

bleeding ebony. I

think of houses of

ice where there is

no light, of men

carving snow birds,

seals, caribou,

dream llamas as geese

fly up, a cloud of

feathers skidding to

the corn that floats

on the skin of water

the color of night

IN THE RIPPLED EBONY COVE

Temperatures falling.

Moon slivers on the

rolling skin of water.

Geese in half light,

armada of feathers.

Wind blows them closer.

One silver band glows.

Their onyx, black flame

in a night fire

HORSES IN THE SNOW

if you are still, you

can hear ice crystals

move like beads

in blackness, before

you see them stand.

Under a snow maple

their legs lift in the

ballet step pas de

cheval, shake the

cold off, huddling

like children or the

memory of children,

shapes dark as

the space snow angels

leave, their hooves

an angel's tiara.

Light glosses the

gray as stem from

the horses rises

SLEEPING WITH HORSES

though I never have, I dream

of such warm flanks,

pulse of blood deep

enough to blur night

terror. I want my own

mare, sleek, night

colored to block

memories of the

orchard of bones,

the loved-lost under,

leaves, under a quilt

of guilt. I think of

cats, long slept with

then gone, how

the Egyptians buried

not only wives but

their favorite pets

near them to cushion

their trip to the

underworld. I want

this mare, velvety

as the dream mare's

nose, nuzzling my

skin in the black

that braids us into

one so I won't

move unless she does

About Lyn Lifshin:

Lyn Lifshin has published many books and chap books, including three from BLACK SPARROW and recently ALL THE POETS WHO TOUCHED ME, LIVING AND DEAD, ALL TRUE, ESPECIALLY THE LIES and BALLROOM. Her website is: www.lynlifshin.com