I am loving, absolutely and fully, Amy Gerstler, the poet. I think I’ll start posting some of her poems because she’s such a treat and you should be invited into her world. Enjoy!
|Hymn to the Neck|
|by Amy Gerstler|
Tamed by starched collars or looped by the noose, all hail the stem that holds up the frail cranial buttercup. The neck throbs with dread of the guillotine's kiss, while the silly, bracelet-craving wrists chafe in their handcuffs. Your one and only neck, home to glottis, tonsils, and many other highly specialized pieces of meat, is covered with stubble. Three mornings ago, undeserving sinner though she is, yours truly got to watch you shave in the bath. Sap matted your chest hair. A clouded hand mirror reflected a piece of your cheek. Vapor rose all around like spirit-infested mist in some fabled rainforest. The throat is the road. Speech is its pilgrim. Something pulses visibly in your neck as the words hand me a towel flower from your mouth.