Kim Trainor

FROM BLUEGRASS: GHAZALS

 

57.

 

 

Yun. Slow penetration. Submission. The eldest daughter.

The roots of growing wood.

 

I will make a periscope telling you

exactly what happened.

 

Sword fern is slick with ice. You feed me

a Chinese pear. I straddle your thigh.

 

It snows all night. You text me:

When can I see you again?

 

You tell me licorice fern grows on maples. That angels

are welcomed in.

 

Taste this sweet root.

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27.

 

 

Here's the hexagram for swallowing—27, Yi. The firm lines

of the lips. Wide open mouth.

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Having 20 litres clean water, sleeping two quiet hours, drinking cup coffee,

having some bread pieces are leisure activities in #Aleppo.

 

I buy a Bic the colours of the Habs. Flick it

with my thumb—blue sparks, fire.

 

God comes forth

in the sign of the Arousing.

 

Now. I open my mouth for you now.

 

Teach me to forage. Snow bramble. Salal.

Wild ginger, which freely roots.

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31.

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Hexagram 31. Xian. Conjoining. Union.

Tension.

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The male is placed below the female—his repression

is her desire.

 

We walk across the snow and

are hours in your bed.

 

I am reading fragments of Sappho. 74A ...goatherd...roses...

74C ...sweat...

 

Do you want to go on top? Put your

fingers inside me.

 

78 ...not...longing...suddenly...blossom...

...longing...

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About the Writer

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      Kim Trainor’s first collection, Karyotype, appeared with Brick Books in 2015. Her next book, Ledi, a long poem narrating the discovery of an Iron Age horsewoman’s grave in the steppes of Siberia, will appear with BookThug in 2018. She lives in Vancouver.

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