« JD Davis | Contents | Jenny Sadre-Orafai »

Jenny Drai

FIRST VERSION OF WATER IN OUR ILLNESS

 

 

We have got to handle ourselves in decent

fashion just some grasping as the fore

 

arms come to understand the flowers I’ve

chimed in yesterday although I think bluebells

 

drew ropes around their prizes we mustn’t

a number of things I want to do oddly

 

smell of soap and water some sort of coconut

infusion you’re with me the whole way.

 

 

SECOND VERSION OF WATER IN OUR ILLNESS

 

 

Can I wish you would endeavor to dry

but barely wishing I’m thickly wet

 

shelter my friend and have used you for my

brim the storm requiring rigorous stances

 

from the deck and I to you what I cannot my

self assure I ought to something my tongue

 

elapses a good noun yes the wordage

fosters sustenance well all those

 

midnights your company keeps lit

despite hypothermic conditions

 

no it’s true you can lonely out until your

lips are sapphire jewels yes I ever.

 

 

FOURTH VERSION OF WATER IN OUR ILLNESS

 

 

 I say you’re here among the lilacs swarming I’m

truant mist just lately days arriving slow to wee

 

buds sweet the coffee scalding well the liquid’s

hot adjacent purple in their vase oh some milk

 

dribbles there I am please don’t bother about saucers

bobbing in that sink forks well we have not eaten

 

yet or ever shall we amidst the danger of consuming

I should remark your skin glances with the fog.

 

 

THIRD VERSION OF WATER IN OUR ILLNESS

 

 

I can walk away from events just ships

burning up the harbor yes the water

 

evaporates King Henry losing his favored

vessel the Mary Rose I think or another

 

equally aplomb just those days wine overmaking

jeweled cups or also plainly wooden tankards I

 

ought to say the water extracts new blue

versions of livid of sky of azure my

 

love is lost on the ship he shall not swim

ashore nor taste the cold sweet water.



« JD Davis | Contents | Jenny Sadre-Orafai »