Claire Malroux: “Undertow”


Out there, something we don’t know is closing,
A pulsing of transparencies that leave no prints
Without blood to guide us back to the swarm
Of tiny joys that used to give us
A taste of milk and honey

Each bee
Dazzles the woven pattern it destroys
Cavernous breaths awaken in the breast
Of summer, as does the sea when she surges
And hurls herself against the rocks and bites them
In the hours when the moon is lashing her
With Byronic suicide

Seeking naked
Beneath her fur the voluptuous wound
And burning his lips yet once again
On the cauldron of pain, inhaling the poison
Of entrails at the entrance of death.

Claire Malroux

Translated from French by Paul Weinfield, © 2015

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