Anna Sears

Nearest the Wick

All of us 
pink-palmed, fragile
sealed in private flame:
a brain blazes
a groin smolders 
a heart falls to ash

If a poet can dowse
sleep’s terrain,
could a poem soothe sapphire:
hottest part of fire?

After Reading Paul Celan

Dream snow
in mulberry cave

driven out
still burning
break words open 
sleep in attic
no roof

icicle shatters skylight
each shard
frostfashioned 
blooms 

dismembered 
goldswept 
bite into 
and hold
make the twisted sing

as a tree sings
without visible birds

_______

Anna Sears is a San Francisco poet and 
writer. She has published one novel, Exile, 
and is currently at work on another. 
“After Reading Paul Celan” originally 
appeared in North Coast Review.