Stirring : A Literary Collection

nicoLe sativa kurlish



Friday morning, before dawn:
it was still grey out.
You were showering
and had locked the bathroom door
to keep out demons.

I wondered how long it would take
and how frigid the water would have to be
for you to wash all my desire
from your skin.

I retreated
to the living room
and dissected my destiny:
a series of numbers
and stolen moments
placed carefully
on black carpet
word by word.


Opening paragraph
embodying the energy
of six months
roughly centered on
core: the World
Winter is dying.
Even the silence
reminds me of hymns
whispered and sacred.
The deadly mixture
of sun and snow
will purge me
of stagnant
and of wallow,
so that I may be
molten, complete.

crossing card: the Star
Like Pandora's Box,
full of unknown
wonder, lust,
you spoke to my
Red velvet fallen,
you insist:
"Maybe I just like
touching you."
Opening possibility
with carefully placed kiss,
forever scarring my wrist.

the past: Woman of Fire
Round hips curving up
seductive torso
into strong shoulders,
I felt feminine,
I could make Gods
tremble with one
understated smile.
Skerries were built
in my wake,
a million motions
for men to dream on.

the future: Judgement
His words are growing
I feel like I am
falling away
from a religion
I began 18 months ago
I know I could
break him
with the utterance
of your name.
I feel an ultimatum coming on.


In the stars above me
and the ground below.

The choice
is not between lover and
other, but stability and
freedom. He holds golden fetters
for me while I reach
for independence.
This has become a lesson in
deconstructing walls.



Self-imposed limitations: atheist.
Tripping more like Narcissus
caught in February's silver sky,
worshipping no one,
putting none before me.

With accusations in their eyes: promiscuous.
What they meant was polyamorous:
loving more than one,
not many,
never without cost.


Where there is no difference between black and white.

Ten glasses empty of possibility at his
bended knee.
Metaphorically drunk,
he asks to merge our eternities.

Ten glasses full of spirit at my
loose tongue.
Love is not a madness. Sober,
we bridge permanence and openness.


Results of autopsy performed pre-mortem.

I have contracted acute hypothermia
affecting the chest cavity and

Frigid winter dwelling,
Premature examination has
left me exposed to icy
conditions and cold shoulders.

I am killing myself with self-fulfilling prophecy.

Location: Warrington, Pennsylvania
Publications: Shadyvale Press 1998 Angel Ink Chapbook, Shadyvale Online Poetry Magazine: Spring, Summer, and Fall 1999 editions, Stirring V1:E3, V2:E3
Awards: Three time winner of The Great New Hope Poetry Slam, Finalist in the Shadyvale Press 1998 Angel Ink Competition, Finalist in the Washington Post e-slam for August 11-12, 1999
Editor Of: supralurid: a miscellany of art and communication

Stirring : A Literary Collection

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