Pavane After Rilke & Whiskey
poetry by Alina Stefanescu
Pavane After Rilke & Whiskey
Close to the cost of knowing lies the sin
of being known. So what's the word for a flame
that licks its lips on a winded night? Or the noun
that carries the loose string on an electric guitar?
And what is poison in the context of August meadows,
of soil being fracked, of water swimming like cancer
when it sleeps? A death already in us, grinding
her teeth. The poems abandoned, the words lost,
the hurt feelings of limited time become frost.
To live with both beauty and terror is our
troth. I write a poem which teaches dogwoods
to dance but find no words to bear the weight
of what's looming. And what've we loomed
in the name of convenience remains unverbed,
only its increments bricked into our spines.
Alina Stefanescu
Alina Stefanescu was born in Romania and lives in Birmingham, Alabama. She serves as Co-Director of PEN Birmingham. Her writing can be found in diverse journals, including Prairie Schooner, North American Review, FLOCK, Southern Humanities Review, Crab Creek Review, Up the Staircase Quarterly, Virga, Whale Road Review, and others. More online at www.alinastefanescuwriter.com.