Aubade In Which I Awaken Yawp Video

Aubade in Which I Awaken

Erica Bodwell

Like a Glock
& a dare, a blizzard-stranded
Honda, a constellation
of bite-marks
across a collarbone,
being lost
in the worst neighborhood
in Syracuse,
like thirty-six stitches
in a gaping palm,
playing quarters
with Stolis
in the Moscow dawn, eyelids
with slept-in mascara,
like leaping
from a rusted
train trestle, praying
to Venus
& not the virgin, dragging
a metal detector
over morning’s fresh sand
& pocketing every
unearthed thing—
what did I think I’d find out there,
blindfolded, accepting
all suitors,
in my long waltz
with the night?

more poems:

It Was Poetry

Speaking on the Mother Tongue

Acts of Light

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