“Delivery,” a Poem from HOUR OF THE GREEN LIGHT, a New Collection from David Ruekburg (poetry ’04)

Delivery
 
 
Swimming away from the green horizon
I foresaw hot light and desiccation 
 
sweetened by a swirl of apricot and apple 
that would soon enough sour.
 
Birds stirred, fluttered my belly.
Scenting life, I gave way to gravity.
 
The amber world heaved in a way 
that was terrible and fun.
 
I was too new to understand paradox— 
the seasick fish, the cascade of sand. 
 
Some tremendous force of love 
pressed down on my sun-shaped face.
 
I came to know what the amputee knows, 
leaving behind my perfect self forever. 
 
What I didn’t expect was the havoc,
the calipers tipped with fire, 
 
the rigid god who hung me in air, 
an aborted sacrifice. 
 
The new world closed
its rubber hand around me 
 
like a tourniquet, dandling me, 
inverted and wrauling, 
 
before the crowd, its roar        
rasping my brand new skin. 
 

HOUR OF THE GREEN LIGHT is published on January 4th by Future Cycle Press.