Rigor Celsius and Intaglio

By SUSAN COMNINOS 

 

RIGOR CELSIUS
in Central New York

 

I’m allotted winter, allowed
Nothing that wasn’t before. Still, I am

Hovering a hand, tender to banks
            of precipitate. May
Our next day be beset by
Nocturnal mountains and stinging stars. Like this
Opinion, snowdrifts? This danger-of-us eclipsing
Rheumy streets and practical plows? Let’s

 

Aid only the air: Mock heat
            of liquid
Nitrogen. A helium head flares up
Down in a New York valley. Lift

 

Praise, shovels and skiers,
Rueful noses and itchy-pant aches. After
All (this temperate, tolerable year), the ice
Is so insistent—
            insensate, specific; flaying tongues that slip
Smart answers to cells
            of the metal
Element: its shrill decree
            that decades and octaves
            drop forever
            gallons below.

 

INTAGLIO
winter, in front of the TV

 

Oh, gray-hair:
Arm of speckled boredom,
Sit awhile
And pull your throat
A cask of some
-thing Peculiar.

 

The villagers are coming.
Let’s smile
With straws
And other
Cupboard staples.

 

Thief. Shoeless wonder.
The drop-cloth
Of the window
Strains the yellow
Light.

 

Oh, poked moon.
You like a flayed field,
Hinged-hipped in the house
Strays built for stones
To live in.

Susan Comninos’s poetry has most recently appeared in the Harvard Review OnlineMalahat ReviewSouthern Humanities Review and Hobart.
Photo by Flickr Creative Commons user spatz_2011

From the beginning, The Common has brought you transportive writing and exciting new voices. We are committed to supporting writers and maintaining free, unrestricted access to our website, but we can’t do it without you. Become an integral part of our global community of readers and writers by donating today. No amount is too small. Thank you!

Rigor Celsius and Intaglio

Related Posts

The Common x Sant Jordi Book Festival: Arabic Fiction Readings

NEWS AND EVENTS
Some of The Common’s Arabic fiction contributors, MARYAM DAJANI, ESTABRAQ AHMAD, and ISHRAGA MUSTAFA HAMID, made virtual appearances at the Sant Jordi Book Festival last week! The hybrid celebration, sponsored by the eponymous Sant Jordi in New York, is held annually in New York City to raise awareness of literature in translation.

Glass: Five Sonnets

MONIKA CASSEL
In ’87 I see guardsmen walk their AK-47s / on the platforms. The trains slow down but never stop. I think, / my mother was born in such a different Germany, but this is true for everyone / —so why can’t I stop looking?

Tomato on tomato plant

A Tomato Behind a Glass Cage

SARAH WU
We watch her pour a pale yellow substance from a small white bucket. It splashes against spots of red tomatoes. She’s using urine! the alumna says excitedly. I wonder at how easily this old woman in the glass cage has become foreign. How ancient, and how strange.