Elizabeth Switaj

Caprico(u)rn 

 Caprico(u)rn is feminine, dominated by the knees

 We turn skin Our ho(u)rns spear into tulle

                                 and dance its wispy bands

drawing down the snow

                                       as if the rabbit in the moon

                                   wept & froze

                                     Our knees,  

                      remnants of walking,

bend just enough beneath Our scales

to call what we do kneeling

                                              

                                                          fins fading blue

We gather

snow into a dome

light a candle, pray a scroll

                                                           leave satsumas for gods

                        who will turn Us back to one

 Caprico(u)rn w(oul)d love    to say I again

o(u)r, if not, fade into preserved by salt

***

Goldfish

People flit against each other, bright shirts flapping like long, loose fins, and I’m against 

the glass. Maybe I’m the goldfish as my mouth goes o when they sing. I sing; they talk to 

each other. The rhythm of pause and take, the echoing of tones I can’t hear. They’re all 

the same. I bang my nose on the glass. I want to be near them.

When I leap against their legs I can breathe. Then oxygen’s too much for me. And sound. 

I panic. I flop. I flap. A meltdown. A fit. And back into the bowl again. It doesn’t hurt my 

fins, my skin to be in water, the silence, constant pressure. But the people are so beautiful. 

I watch. I want. To flop again.

***

And Rest in Silence

Even at night there is no silence

Even in sun there is no safe

corner or straight for kids who love

in violet—not taupe—who hold

hands no larger hands protect

from teeth at hallway’s end

where taunts & jeers don’t end,

where you learn to pray for silence

since no one will speak to protect

you. Their bones would not be safe.

Take my bones in your skin. Hold

my ashes to the wind, my love.

We’ll show them what it means to love.

Don’t let this be the end.

There’s only so much you can hold,

and there’s no silence

in the wind, no safe

-ty for what winds protect.

Let the trees behind the track protect

us from the wind—and hide our love

in evergreen & elm, safe

from hanged man’s fated end

from silence

I can no longer hold.

Two girls walk by. They hold

our hands as well as theirs. Protect

our prayers for silence.

I love you, and you love

her & me & him & that’s the end 

Even our bones are not safe.

Even our skin is not safe

since it’s with skin we touch & hold

each other & the rope to end

our lives, to protect

our memories of love 

we do not kneel, we pray for silence.

The safe will never protect

love from those who hold

the power to end  the thrall of silence.

***

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