ARS POETICA

ARS POETICA

O Sister—last night I had a dream. It danced through

my skull in volts of blue—like the haze of a comet smearing its tail

across the sky until stars distort to fragments so frail

beneath the blankets of dust that your fingertips could tear into

their pulp—ripping them apart like papyrus. & last night we whipped

across the turnpike like rattlesnakes—the smog that trailed

behind us was gorgeous, thick, like ripples in sand. & we sailed

until our skin began to wither—& finally you tripped—

fell from the car the way decaying petals of an orchid drip

to the ground to rot—& your limbs were like wisteria

tossing its flowers through the air while the sun painted your lips—

caking them in shades of jade—& you laughed with the deliria

I watched drizzling down your brow while you lay in the dust

that swirled in sunset colors tinged with chemicals around us.

& Sister, please—what can I do about my dreams?

WUNDERKAMMER

WUNDERKAMMER

Act I

The sound of a crescendo stalls stale in my lungs. Capsules litter the floor like pebbles, & as I step, they embed themselves in my soles—my lips salivate at the sight, & with eyes melting like a greedy child I finger my fedora, felt mixing with my skin as I press it to my face. I drink the faded perfumes woven through the fabric until I’m laying across the floor—I’m Elizabeth Taylor!—I tremble as men press their palms insatiably against the door. They press & caress & finally the room crumbles—collapses under its own weight like an eagle’s nest & I’m left sprawled in the ash.

Act II

Children spin & swirl through the dust, their Peter-Pan-limbs flailing graceful & smooth. I call to them, lips heavy with pills & sunflower seeds: fresh beautiful things! cherubs! dance across the pavement & let me worship your fading freckles! Costumes ill-fitted & tattered they flock to me—fold into my arms & wither like daisies. We shiver at the shrieks of a squirt gun that echo through the scene & I trace the chin of each Shirley Temple that sits so devout on my knee. With delicate fingers stroking their teeth, they mouth silently, pressing “Je est un autre” into the hollow air.