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The Thigh

Clothing and weapons set aside, I am simply your thigh, and proof

that underneath the world lies

a warm pool of water overflowing

with drowned blue butterflies.

All these years,

clear up to here:

As you waited, I waited too.

When you were tired,

I lay down with you.

You never noticed,

but now you do. (

boy’s fingers whispering past the hem of your skirt—guess who?)

Guess who.

Sleeve of moony, vaporous voices. The dead ebbing as the living flowed.

The calm milked cows in a field of clover. The long

white fish in a bath. Cellular

shadow on the forest floor. Someone withdraws

a shining sword.

The naked man standing on the deck with his harpoon.

So much water lapping at a mindless shore. So

much spring stuffed into a pale

silk sack.

Or a club

tossed down among the flowers.

I am your memory

of it all, your life, in flesh and hours, statement

and tone, meat and weather

wrapped around a bone.

from Lilies WithoutFind it in the library

Copyright © 2007 Laura Kasischke
Used with the permission of The Permissions Company, Inc.
on behalf of Copper Canyon Press.

Published in Laura Kasischke Poems

This program is supported in part by a grant from the Idaho Humanities Council, a State-based program of the National Endowment for the Humanities.

Any views, findings, conclusions, or recommendations expressed in this (publication, website, exhibit, etc.) do not necessarily represent those of the Idaho Humanities Council or the National Endowment for the Humanities.