Anna Maria Hong
Fix the Sphinx
Addicted to riddle and reversals
of person. Shift happens.
Core pulled down to core.
The monstrous breadth,
beached. The navel gazes
with its inner
whorl, eye knit over
original tore. The great draw
at world’s, at world’s ignition.
A stutter burns the heavens,
as seizure grabs
the firmament’s flotsam.
A tug at the wall of the mind’s drum,
as the riddle resolves.
10 to 2
Raise the hour and the glass—there is
beauty in the braggadocio. I break
my heart for you. My fast is no lament.
I break my luck in two—one for you
and two for me. My rumored blood,
my dynasty. The neck keeps pace. The horse
and I retouch the sky on clipped, brown wings.
To tell, rehearse, recede.
I raise a glass to the hour
you took the box from me. I raise my voice
inside your throat; I hum a viral children’s
storyline, which has no native melody.
The arrow whistles through the weft. The watch
sets on a silver beam minutely attached.
Anna Maria Hong is the Visiting Creative Writer at Ursinus College, a former Bunting Fellow at the Radcliffe Institute for Advanced Study, and a recipient of Poetry magazine’s Frederick Bock Prize. Her fiction and poetry recently appear in The Iowa Review, The Nation, Green Mountains Review, Fence, Verse Daily, Drunken Boat, Dusie, Unsplendid, Harvard Review, Conduit, Great River Review, China Grove, Best New Poets, and The Best American Poetry. She is a Contributing Editor at The Offing.