the enso

"Duck, Duck, Goose" by marlowe

the compilation

We are as translucent as glass.
With many ways to bark, one way to bite,
we learn what cleaves us can also mend us: our broken hearts crack
open to reveal light — a golden goddess gliding across these ripples.
The foyer lamp, its panes segmented like a bee’s comb, beckons us with its honey.
Fog settles at our feet — a lasso, a sacred circle.
Behind us, fireflies twinkle like stars in the night sky
and pine trees line the esplanade like a dozen lime lollipops.
Wild grasses become asparagus spears, dwarf trees grow broccoli florets.
You say “love is free if you know how to ask for it”.
I tell you “do not deride what you desire”.
We know a hat can be a bucket or a sieve:
the barking dog — the squeaking screen door — the ticking clock —
the clink of spoons as you stack them in the utensil drawer.
We know the velocity of a potter’s wheel is etched in her pot:
a spiraled path — a mortal coil — a bullseye.
I am definitive like the drum but you
are tuned to a key, the essence of those chords.
I say “waltz with me, and in 1-2-3 steps, we will find our groove together”.
You tell me “a phoenix, rising from her rest, does not give away her feathers”.

the enso

"Extensions" by marlowe

the poem

If a tree is life
then these exposed roots, tangled
like Medusa’s hair, half-drowned in water,
are the bloodlines. We want more

than these exposed roots. Tangled,
we twist our limbs, failing to see
our bloodlines. We want more
than the promise of power as

we twist, our limbs flailing, to see
how a legend is created from nothing more
than the promise. Power
leaves men stunned. In its wake, we fear

a legend is created. From nothing: more
power. This weapon attached to a shield
leaves stunned men in its wake. Fear
writhes, alive. Your head, the trunk, is

power, a weapon attached to this shield
like Medusa. Hair half-drowned in water
writhes, alive: your head is the trunk, as
if a tree is life.