Poetry

Trans-Relational Love Poem

The door is designed for the repetition
of words.

The door is ajar. The door is a thought

that will take you,

You are therefor walking up the stairs
of a clear glass building.

When you reach the fourth floor, enter. There is my boudoir en pleine aire.
There are my countless abilities
repeated.
There is the Ottoman Empire
throwing off of the Roman Empire.

So step up.

The architects are playing with your vertigo. They are playing with your need to be inside.
They are playing with the idea that
one cannot rub one’s shoes
on a work of art.

And everywhere the influence of the far-east:

Does it depend on the architecture

on the parfumerie of the lady of the house.

Perfumes are designed for the repetition of sensation.
They play with our ideas
about love.

Is that the definition for love

that would take you,

Playing with the order of sensation. Playing with the sensation
vof order.
Playing on the glass floors
with my ballet shoes
visible through the quarter.

The peculiarity of home.

A valentine for the invisible:

Contributor

Caroline Crumpacker

Caroline Crumpacker is a poet living in Brooklyn. She is a poetry editor for FENCE magazine.

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APR 2004

All Issues