risky business

I’ve been wondering lately about the timing of things in my life. I keep asking for signs to point me in the right direction. While meditating last night I heard ‘get clear about your intention.’ Sitting there I felt the fear and insecurity rise up while I tried to feel my true intention. As it passed, the love that was underneath became apparent. Although I have struggled with all types of love, familial, romantic, and friendship, it bubbles to the surface time and time again. Today I found something new to love, Katherine Larson’s poem, “Risk,” in Radial Symmetry.  Absolutely divine.


In the dream, I am given a monkey heart
and told to be careful how I love
because of the resulting infection.
Suddenly a hard-boiled egg with no yolk,
I pitch down a great hill in a holy city,
past the flaming beakers of ethanol,
the lapis bowls in which Science
would peel me apart. And when I skid
into a fleshy patch of grass,
I unroll into a grub. A grub with the mind
of a girl, a girl with the lips of an insect.
A voice says, Metamorphosis
will make you ugly. I answer:
Radiance will change its name.
In the heat I squirm and shrug
out of my summer suit and breathless
split into a cotton dress. It is almost
evening. There are fireflies.
On the lawn of my childhood house,
an operating table, doctors,
a patient under a sheet. I walk up.
Under the webbing of IV’s,
a surgeon hands me a silver comb
and I start brushing the patient’s hair
like I did my mother’s when I was a girl.
The nurse lifts the sheet.
It isn’t my mother. It’s the monkey.
I bend my ear to its dying lips
and it says: You haven’t much time –
risk it all.

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