Two Poems by V. C. McCabe

Fire-tongued Labyrinth

I was born in a blue field
after the circus
came to town.

Doves flew
from my sister’s throat as
she swallowed             bright
stars.

The stag
rested       in the hunter’s horn,
sounding out        sour notes of
kudzu.

Fireflies have no faith
nor need of
sun and fluorescent
bulbs.

Whisper
indoors, the walls
have ears and flies
stuck      in their ointment.

Lions are leaving
my skin
in scars, in droves       of
horse-drawn carriages.

Fresco Inamorata

You catacomb
my reasoning.                          You honey
my perception.                         I willow
in your open palm.                  I bend
in your direction.                     We chortle
joy. We melt in arms.              We shed
all inhibition.                           We gallop
blue.                                        We break         the sky
on clouds of jubilation.

About the Author

V.C. McCabe is a West Virginian poet and music journalist whose work appears, or is forthcoming, in Poet Lore, Prairie Schooner, Entropy, Queen Mob’s Teahouse, Tar River Poetry, Spillway, The Cape Rock, Southword, and elsewhere.