Two Poems by Louise Carson



Ambiguity adds another layer.

Slice into a fresh made day.

Take. Eat.

You know who you are.


Three are forward, sterile.

Fourth perspective shows a liquid light.

Take it. Drink it.

Let it fill you.


Admit partial reconciliation.

Use a symbol: the stinking rose.

Secret weapon against blood-letting.

Still no admission to this close.


I am no missionary.

Think what you want.




To the righteous          


With a stiff neck

we praise you

oh God.


Starting from one place

all man’s exhausting variations

twist and collide.


With only a slight motion to one side

we would see everyone

in the mirror.


Mangled nervous cords

might unbend

joyously align.