Fusion
by Laura Merleau
First, you have to fall
Apart. The jug
And peach posed
Solidly on the wooden
Stair must disintegrate
Neatly as if cut
Out of negative
Space and flung
Into the flat black
Sky. Meanwhile,
You wrap yourself up
In your worn sleeping
Fur and imagine
All the pieces of
The puzzle of your life
Coming back together
Starting with that black
Jug and perfectly
Ripe peach—the frame
Of negative space,
The wooden stairs—
Reassembling in one
Swift click of
The camera and,
With a few parched
Corn kernels on your
Tongue, you snuggle
Down into the shadows,
Tucking your ragged
Pelts close, and know
Everything can heal.
by Laura Merleau
You are falling
like the leaves,
putting your whole
body into
the effort.
You are landing
on the bed
of dried locust
beans, on the bed
of the ocean,
littered with fish
skeletons. You
are landing
in my arms—
I catch you
every time
you fall and still
you don’t so
much as whisper
thank you. I
rub almond oil
all over your
bruises. You go
to sleep. You
wake and spend
your afternoon performing
endless somersaults
and rolling
down the slopes
of my body—
my hips, my
thighs, my
interior
regions where
I whisper a
thank you and
wonder if we
are, in fact,
the only people
left in the world.
____________________________
Laura Merleau was born and grew up in the Kansas City area. She
received a doctoral degree in American Literature from the University
of Kansas in 2000. Merleau taught French at Arkansas State University
in Jonesboro and English as a Second Language at Washington
University in St. Louis. Her novella Little Fugue was published by
Woodley Memorial Press in 1992. Her poetry has recently been
accepted for publication in Rougarou, Poppyseed Kolache, and
Ragazine. An excerpt from her novel Blood Sugar Jezebel has been
accepted for publication with The Survivor Chronicles.
On “Fusion” and “Fall Patterns (2)”:
When I wrote the poems “Fusion” and “Fall Patterns (2)” in the
summer of 2010, I was looking at reproductions of collages of the
same titles by Wieslawa “Dzidka” Contoski. Dzidka was the wife
of a friend of mine who died before I had the chance to get to know
her. Her collages are some of the most remarkable and inspiring
works of art I have ever seen, and they have motivated me to write
a series of poems. So I look at the collages while I write, and I let
my mind go. I try not to be bound by any preconceptions of my
own. The often recurring images Dzidka uses—peaches, fish
skeletons, locust beans—are fun to work with and explore on
many levels.
◄ Previous page Apple Valley Review, Fall 2010 Next page ►
First, you have to fall
Apart. The jug
And peach posed
Solidly on the wooden
Stair must disintegrate
Neatly as if cut
Out of negative
Space and flung
Into the flat black
Sky. Meanwhile,
You wrap yourself up
In your worn sleeping
Fur and imagine
All the pieces of
The puzzle of your life
Coming back together
Starting with that black
Jug and perfectly
Ripe peach—the frame
Of negative space,
The wooden stairs—
Reassembling in one
Swift click of
The camera and,
With a few parched
Corn kernels on your
Tongue, you snuggle
Down into the shadows,
Tucking your ragged
Pelts close, and know
Everything can heal.
by Laura Merleau
You are falling
like the leaves,
putting your whole
body into
the effort.
You are landing
on the bed
of dried locust
beans, on the bed
of the ocean,
littered with fish
skeletons. You
are landing
in my arms—
I catch you
every time
you fall and still
you don’t so
much as whisper
thank you. I
rub almond oil
all over your
bruises. You go
to sleep. You
wake and spend
your afternoon performing
endless somersaults
and rolling
down the slopes
of my body—
my hips, my
thighs, my
interior
regions where
I whisper a
thank you and
wonder if we
are, in fact,
the only people
left in the world.
____________________________
Laura Merleau was born and grew up in the Kansas City area. She
received a doctoral degree in American Literature from the University
of Kansas in 2000. Merleau taught French at Arkansas State University
in Jonesboro and English as a Second Language at Washington
University in St. Louis. Her novella Little Fugue was published by
Woodley Memorial Press in 1992. Her poetry has recently been
accepted for publication in Rougarou, Poppyseed Kolache, and
Ragazine. An excerpt from her novel Blood Sugar Jezebel has been
accepted for publication with The Survivor Chronicles.
On “Fusion” and “Fall Patterns (2)”:
When I wrote the poems “Fusion” and “Fall Patterns (2)” in the
summer of 2010, I was looking at reproductions of collages of the
same titles by Wieslawa “Dzidka” Contoski. Dzidka was the wife
of a friend of mine who died before I had the chance to get to know
her. Her collages are some of the most remarkable and inspiring
works of art I have ever seen, and they have motivated me to write
a series of poems. So I look at the collages while I write, and I let
my mind go. I try not to be bound by any preconceptions of my
own. The often recurring images Dzidka uses—peaches, fish
skeletons, locust beans—are fun to work with and explore on
many levels.
◄ Previous page Apple Valley Review, Fall 2010 Next page ►
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Apple Valley Review:
A Journal of Contemporary
Literature
ISSN 1931-3888
Volume 5, Number 2
(Fall 2010)
Copyright © 2010
by Leah Browning, Editor.
All future rights to material
published in the Apple
Valley Review are retained
by the individual authors
and artists.
www.applevalleyreview.com
A Journal of Contemporary
Literature
ISSN 1931-3888
Volume 5, Number 2
(Fall 2010)
Copyright © 2010
by Leah Browning, Editor.
All future rights to material
published in the Apple
Valley Review are retained
by the individual authors
and artists.
www.applevalleyreview.com
 |  |  |  |  |
Fall Patterns (2)