poem03 Jun 2013 08:00 am

Beauty Remembers


Kindling to anger
like August wood,
your mountain-storm voice
drained and drowned me –

Yes. I’ll admit
I was afraid, at first,
when they brought me
to your house.


Your love of the roses
puzzled me. They never suffered
from your whims, unlike the servants.
I watched you tend them
with gentle claws.
I imagined that touch
on my flesh,

and shivered.


Books I had aplenty,
more than merchant’s daughters
would see in a lifetime.
I ate them up, hungry
for past knowledge and poems.
My fingers grew rough
from the jagged page-edges.

Once I cut myself deep
on The Anatomy of Melancholy
when you prowled the library.
Sucking my finger
till my mouth was iron,
I saw you watch, eyes afire.

And I knew: you, too, were hungry.


One Response to “Beauty Remembers, by Sara Norja”

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