2 Poems Sonya Arko




In Eight Parts


1
Unveil me—I’m ready.

2
Things have been cut away, and my face is flawed.
Look now before more is missing.
We were all born whole, with chisels.

3
I am what’s not there.
You determined me.
Hold me up to the light. Am I clearer now?
Knock me over. Am I half empty, or half full?
Turn me over, and look.

4
My shy protests were invitations, really.
I was pointing out the cracks.
I was born with cracks.
I’m a mosaic now, full of glue and glass.
You didn’t mean to carve away so much.
But the hammer slipped, and you’re an artist.

5
I’ve found my chisel.

6
I am what’s not there.

7
Can you see me now? Am I the right shape? Do I fit?

8
Can you feel where I am? The parts that are rough, and smooth?


The Civil Ceremony Comes First


I stood in a forest of branches and debris and posed for a picture.

I am wearing my black winter coat.

Underneath it I am wearing a white dress.


Outside of the Circuit Court of Cook County, I am wondering.

I am trying to predict.

*

(I am in a forest of pictures and black coats.
The prediction is white dress.
Underneath the debris there is a forest which posed for a picture.)

I am a forest of predictions, which I hang on the branches of debris.
Outside, I am underneath branches, trying to stand.
I am civil, but posed.
I am wearing the predictions, the white dress, and the coat.
I am wondering, and trying to picture the underneath.
The debris poses for a picture, and underneath, it tries to predict.
Standing in branches, the picture poses.

*

The branches pose with me.

*

Civil, but posed.