Charlotte O’Brien: Aperture
Aperture
Days when
sun burnished your face / your eyes / closing
a mask
tilting / your head to
summer / ancient / desire / crowning
your golden honey-skin
arms, ripe
in that wild / unfurled
stage
of becoming
not / imagining this feral
body or its pivot.
Time then to
think / what you wanted beckoning
fool’s gold, fool’s errand
you roamed
and drifted / slinking through
lifetimes, your body / carless / a vessel
now turned
on its inverse
trajectory. These days / you swim upstream
slam your body against rock
in this last surge
sensitive to magnetic fields / clearing / a path
a wound / as much / as a shield
the water / murmuring / is it enough?
These days,
the water’s cold
you’re a woman with scales / traversing / submerged terrain
it’s late and you’ve begun
to / pale / shallow when the day pools
its shadows
you’re sweeping
scum from the water’s edge / vanishing
light / tarring
your throat
you long
to strike a match
against night’s dark field. you’re
sinking beneath / this
deep shivering body
of glass / proscenium of sky / surface
of stars
if you could excavate the black
from this / hollow
you would.
Charlotte O’Brien is a queer writer living in Portland, Oregon who graduated from Pacific University's MFA program in 2013 with a concentration in poetry and nonfiction. Charlotte has essays and interviews most recently published in The Rumpus, Mutha Magazine, and The Manifest-Station. Charlotte’spoems, most recently appeared Reed Magazine, Sheena Na Gig, Epiphany and Catamaran. 'Bones of Flight' was a semifinalist for the Catamaran Poetry Prize. www.charlotteobrien.org