JC Sulzenko’s Line-a-day Poem

This is the blog form of the original composition. You may also read it as a list on one page.

  • her soft words to slip through stone?

  • Or must she travel

  • a steep sinue of a road,

  • twisting up, around

  • blind curves: she cannot know what’s

  • coming but strives forward still.

  • Forty years ago,

  • when almost a woman,

  • a serious girl

  • found his features beautiful,

  • felt the heat of his pursuit.

  • Now she can still see

  • how he walked down her front steps,

  • how he crossed her street:

  • tall, slim; hands loose at his sides;

  • steps, fluid as a dancer’s.

  • Now she remembers

  • the summer she turned twenty.

  • He charmed them: boys, girls —

  • student guides at the world’s fair

  • let him lead them anywhere.

  • When he came for her,

  • when it was her turn at last,

  • she feared, yet followed.

  • Midnight flamenco, tangos,

  • wine, whispers: all real or not?

  • Now so long ago.

  • Still, his essence at that time,

  • what he was to her,

  • flourishes unblemished, fans

  • the embers of memory.

  • Santa on Main Street:

  • His cavalcade, commercial.

  • Good will, good business, joined.

  • Equal measures of dollars

  • and dreaming of sugarplums.

  • She speaks of herself

  • for one hour; portrays how

  • fairy godmothers,

  • luck rule her life; this woman

  • blind to how she makes her own.

  • He lived tough at first.

  • His house near the bus depot,

  • not nearly a home.

  • he watched through tattered curtains

  • as wheels turned toward Somewhere.

  • His intersection:

  • without lights, five roads converge.

  • Stops at each corner.

  • His lifescape: a pub, petstore;

  • a gas station and buses.

  • Wanted: dead or alive,

  • a new dancemaster for death.

  • Well schooled? Yes, of course,

  • in the arts. To pirouette

  • to life’s choreography.

  • Her sharp reflection

  • in a mirror framed with vines.

  • She stares at her face,

  • the mask that hides what she knows:

  • under lips, that smile — her skull.

  • What is she, she asks.

  • Bones, flesh, gray matter, veins, blood?

  • A prison of cells?

  • Her body confines, defines

  • her essence; when she lives, dies.

  • She, shackled and bound,

  • rejects her physical self;

  • seeks freedom elsewhere.

  • Spirit, soul: free in her mind

  • where cell walls wait to be breached.

  • Exit the balsam.

  • Chains of gold, ornaments: boxed.

  • Without scent or lights,

  • the room emptied of Christmas

  • becomes itself, unadorned.

  • The nature of cold:

  • as a colour, blue as ice.

  • Replace that cliche.

  • As a colour, colourless:

  • diamonds in winter’s crown.

  • A life line of crowns:

  • palm, crosshatched in diamonds,

  • triangulation.

  • Jewels of experience

  • nestle in fate’s filigree.

  • A lifetime: long? Short?

  • Life is nothing without death.

  • Like those much-married,

  • they become one another:

  • similar in looks, habits.

  • Their resemblance lasts,

  • survives the dying moment.

  • Without injury,

  • only the absence of breath

  • severs their intimate bond.

  • In the aftermath,

  • absence of life becomes large,

  • fills the chamber.

  • Life force, animation, soul —