Poetry - Issue 23 | November 2015

Two Poems by David Havird

The Spell


I picture you with a knife
in one hand, the sandal
upside down in the other,

wanting a third
to handle the mirror.
Follow me

your footprints spell
in the dust. Amid the rubble
on either side

of the Street of Tombs,
not a stele standing. Where
have you swished off to, cruised

through what gate’s leer
(I’ve come ashore
with harpoon eyes),

toxic white
with mulberry lips,
swinging your hips like a fishtail?

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About the author

David Havird is the author of two collections, “Map Home” (2013) and “Penelope’s Design”(2010), which won the 2009 Robert Phillips Poetry Chapbook Prize. His poems have appeared in many journals, including Agni, The New Yorker, Poetry, Sewanee Review, and Yale Review. A professor of English at Centenary College of Louisiana, he has been teaching a May course in Greece since 2009.

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