Art and poetry on page and stage



Janine Pommy Vega


One drop of nectar rolled down
the throat of the giant red amaryllis
and waited at the edge, the sun
rose red over snow
and the phoebe sang out sweetly her return

return of the sun
the arrows and tips of flame
the women in shades of scarlet
and the men, almost skipping in night air
doing a jig to the stars
and Mars, above Aldebaran, crimson

Tell me a story, the old one
about how we used to strip to the waist
to catch the sun, how the crystal daggers
were wanton roses that gouged out
the heart, and caught achingly
in the throat.