KATE FOLEY

Running Woman
 

This is something you do every Sunday morning,
out of a modest kindness to your own body,

and when you come in, the hallway floods
with iron and salt.

I am in the shower and the bland smell of clean
is suddenly drowned out

so I’m wild to peel you like a fruit out of your wet gear,
to see your feet, a simple elegance, knurled from use

and the damp luxury of your fur.
A heaped slobber of kit slumps on the tiled floor.

You rest your cold, wet body, all its live hidden heat held
against my lax warmth.


I remember a lake in France, the bottom so far down
that as you dropped your feet

chills rose upward but sun stroked a finger of volcanic rock
releasing a smell of iron and salt.

Long before I knew you, I licked its deep mineral scent,
my blood’s compass set like a field beast’s

on iron,salt and a hint of honey.

Anamaria Comes

Kate Foley

Femeie Care- Alergi

Din bunatate sincera pentru-al tau corp
Faci asta in fiecare duminica dimineata,

Iar cand intri-n casa,
Holul se umple de sare si fier.

Sunt la dus, dar mirosul placut de curat,
Brusc, e estompat

Asa ca de-abia astept sa te decojesc ca pe un fruct de treningul ud,
Sa-ti vad picioarele, finute, cu urme de la mers
Si parul bogat, umed.

Hainele murdare stau gramada pe gresie.

Iti odihnesti trupul umed, rece,
caldura lui vie
ascunsa sta
de caldura molateca a corpului meu.

Imi amintesc de-un lac in Franta, care era atat de-adanc
Ca-ti trimitea fiori cand intindeai picioru-n apa
Dar soarele a-ncins roca vulcanica
imprastiind miros de fier si sare.

Demult, cand inca nu te cunosteam,
i-am savurat aroma minerala,

de-atunci a sangelui busola a inceput salbatic
sa recunoasca fierul, sarea si dulceata mierii..