Poem

TWO TRUTHS AND A LIE

by

Maryanne Stahl
 

I live in a house made of blue glass.
Sunlight turns it green, then purple
like the heads of mallards. Some
days I wish my walls would lift
and flap--wings to fold
and disappear beneath me.

Raindrops fracture into shards
against my rooftop, cutting fingers
reaching to shut windows. Blood,
grape blue inside my veins,
runs cherry red outside me,
staining curtains black.

Last night I kissed a man
who pounds nails with fists, and
imagined myself beneath beams of wood.
I dreamed a snake, undulating
over plums and berries, and woke
to a sky white and thin as ice.

####


Maryanne Stahl lives on a lake near Atlanta with her husband, son, dog, cats, ducks and other wild creatures. She teaches writing at Kennesaw State University.

Her most recent work can be seen in AILERON, CRITIQUE, OPHELIA'S MUSE, storySOUTH, EXQUISITE CORPSE ,PAUMANOK REVIEW, OUTSIDER INK ,NEW WORKS REVIEW, and LITERARY SALT.

Her first novel, Forgive the Moon, will be published by New American Library (Penguin Putnam) in June 2002.



E-mail her at maryannestahl@hotmail.com.