Poem of the Month
Regain

By Oana Avasilichioaei

Published on August 4, 2015

Tonight it will rain on the green dunes of limestone.
Wine preserved until now in a dead man’s mouth
will awaken the realm of footbridges, displaced in a bell.
A human tongue will clang courage inside a helmet.

And so trees will come at a quickened pace,
to wait for a voiced leaf, brought in an urn,
herald of sleep’s coast sent off to a tide of flags.
Let it soak in your eyes, so I think we’re dying together.

Your hair streaming from mirrors will blanket the sky
in which, with a frigid hand, I’ll flame an autumn.
From waters drunk by the blind, my stunted laurel
will climb a belated ladder to bite from your brow.

More Poetry

Regain

Tonight it will rain on the green dunes of limestone.
Wine preserved until now in a dead man’s mouth
will awaken the realm of footbridges, displaced in a bell.
A human tongue will clang courage inside a helmet.

Magnetic Days

I’m on St-Zotique and St-Laurent in the cage on the east side of the street shooting baskets alone. Despite it ...

Sound No 2

There are things I want to show you, like the empty pause that encircles desire. Or how Klimt knew that a woman bends her neck that far for a kiss only if she really wants it. I want to show you how quiet it gets when you’re in the company of someone who no longer loves you.