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Susan Culver - And Then, She Opens Her Eyes |
"Is it you, my prince?" said she to him. "You have waited a long while."
-- Sleeping Beauty
We have not yet reached the ocean,
not felt salt burrowing in the creases
of clasped palms or shivered
whispers spraying our flesh
like secrets. I am tugged
by you, by wind, urging me closer
to promise, benediction.
We are still moving through forests,
dropping off faces of rocks like tears,
like wedding rice. I am tossing
through waves of fear, frayed
hems, skin-scrapes. The clasp
of my suitcase has come undone, history
is scattered. Hurry, you say.
We keep covering the same ground, again,
always waiting for the symphony,
the ballet. You tell me this is sunrise,
an unblemished page. I am turning
in tales of lost things, longing to hold
tight to old treasures. Still
you are pulling me forward.
We lose record of time, instants are eternal
gateways between was and will
be, a break in the trees. You reach
the end an instant before me. I am tangled
in roots, wrapped still
in night. You are morning: transcendence,
light. Stirring, you are stirring me
from a hundred years' sleep with kisses, and the sea.
Susan Culver lives in Colorado and is the editor of Lily (http://freewebs.com/lilylitreview). She has had work published in Paumonok Review, Rose & Thorn, and Wicked Alice.
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