It’s shivering Like a little lady rattling her bell Calling for tea Quivering in the old style There’s a red light in Boston At the close of day Like the red light of idiocy All along the bricks Of Harvard Yard & a blue Sky so hard & irradiated In the way of old cinema Whose screens Reflect the pops & black Rot spattered As though it were something Perhaps nice As if to say please No extra charge Please Visualize now the idea of your blind spot I will even do it for you As the physical reel unspools & unspools & you blink In a dark Room narrow with shadows Narrow shadows like avant-gardes It was a dream that woke up The Fall It really is something A sick feeling Like stopping lying A dangerous feeling Like giving up trying to live as though you were otherwise As though my mouth could water along the split Waistlines of all the apricot colored squashes As though the real pumpkins, horns Of plenty at my hearth & in my wealth, my death Were visibly grinning Thru the rosebud lip of womanhood Behind which all the women I really am (they claim) Hide behind my face & do their flips Behind my teeth In the red darkness there In my potions In my chemicals In the mouth I never use In my poisonous mouth Copyright © 2015 by Ariana Reines. Used with permission of the author. |
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