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Two poems by Kelly Dvorak

This alien landscape

The groom comes to me during the
night with tiny razor cuts 
in the roof of his
mouth unable to speak
he touches me darkly
talking to me
soft with his hands
lost in the scent of lilacs
a ceremony of duty
he can’t imagine stepping
from between the path of rose petals
turning his back to me
walking away

I get lost in 
this alien landscape
I stand dark against the wall
a blur of trees standing
motion, stillness
my hands sink into his flesh the scent of
my body scattered on the floor

when I was thirteen
I would line up
plastic brides in a  row,
waiting for something special
to whip them out of stiff lace dresses

I want to feel hands on me 
in a triangle, a shelter
against storms of words
staining my skin like rust
something for him to see
lifting up off my skin
rushing into the air
all around us
a bright gold confetti
the colour of his hands

I wanted strength 		 
a hammer poised to 
bang out a purpose 
on any yeilding
surface
I would have left a pattern
         to read like braille
with sweet   raw   fingertips

I was 	small 
when I 	watched 
my father 	   build our 
house 
I rode the 	 saw-horse and
watched     his hands work the 
foundation 
our home took its 
shape from his 
hands  	 empty space became meaning under 
dark  rough
callouses
I remember
when he could span my face
from 
ear to ear    with
his hand    &     the secret heart
of the building wood-locked
and splintered

I crawled out through the window	
felt my ungrown body frame the width
of filled space 
&	hid high in 
the unfinished second story
I knew he would come for me
and his anger would leave him
 a sillhouette 		dark against the trees

& I am still there 
arms oustretched
electric      bright 
power 	through me
anticipating