like a lost Osiris

photo by Aaron Siskind (Cuzco)

WAVY LIPS

On the coldest night in a generation

on a bridge in Minneapolis

one delicate snowflake melts

into her crevices of Inca stone.

Berryman, like a lost Osiris

wavers on the railing...

& maidens will be wailing

in Ramah, because she is

no more.  A forgotten Muse

of Memory – figure

of a little almond tree –

stays hidden (somewhere in D.C.).

I gather the limbs of Osiris

whispers Isis (under

her obelisk of wonder

blundering toward Sirius).

She remains behind her veil

out there in West Branch,

like a soft eyelash

encircling the ark of Israel –

like the cow-eyed prow of Argo

or sea-tossed glance

of Magdalen-experience;

the wavy lips of the vessel flow

into a primavera Ocean State...

your dream-song Jonah

breathing – hallelujah! –

from polar ice to coracle checkmate.

1.27.19