In response to the phrase, “Never make a promise you intend to keep,” Call No. 35.
Seismicity
Lauren Palmor
loyalty can be a fault
a fault line
a surface trace
the break
between our bodies and
our geologies
the hanging wall of the rock
makes a promise to the footwall,
holding on
holding its mountain breath,
resisting the shifts
of the earthquake zone
seismic symptoms
strain our vows
accelerating the rate
of microfracturing between
our hands, our fingers
laced together
like the oblique-slips
in the geological survey
of our together
if we maintain our rocky pact,
earthquakes will follow.
the magnitude of
the impending tremors
will find its epicenter
in patterned bedsheets
or at the table by the window
of the corner restaurant
but despite the guarantee of tremors
and the eventual collapse
of all our fragile things
over the earth’s palpitations,
we greet disaster
and hold our convergent boundaries,
warm from the glow
of subterranean quivering.
Lauren Palmor blogs at The Art Object and Sarah Lawrence Girls.
Desert
Bones break as sand shifts,
twisting further the shy attempts
at rising into something they never wanted
“When you climb a rock, you climb a mountain.”
Skin tingles like citrus orange,
fractured into stone and
pulped by the gears of desire, watching
as ice spills to fill long black lines
that scream like hell and yield like heaven
The ground swells,
devoured by its own needs,
carving the air with rough red combs
peppered with sighs of the wind.
“I am created by what other people want.”
You spoke to me as air once did,
pouring light into a space unseen,
warm in the comfort of your failures.
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