Archive for Cynie Cory


Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , on March 30, 2008 by Ryan Sanford Smith

Proof, no Proof (a poem by Cynie Cory, taken from Shade, an anthology of fiction and poetry, 2004 ed.)

As a hurricane approaches a town
that is hideously bored, I owe you
reasons why I love you. It smells like blown
lust cultivates by absence’s blue
geometries. Here is the honeycomb
answering you, poised like snowfall, done. Huge
silences escape the hollow moon’s home
dissolved into failure. Nature’s abuse
kisses us like stained-glass windows smashing
at our feet. The cathedral’s over or
it never tood a chance like most passion.
I cannot do anything. The cracked roar

Of my heart means I’m blasted to the ground.
You who cannot weep cannot hear a sound.