Untitled
Nobody watches here.
Aural discs taunt me;
their violent geometry floats around a spindled flame.
From the ceiling hang gold-leafed umbilical cords hang flame-headed dragons,
one is sucking tinder into the branches of her lungs.
Her yellow eye rages in its electric violet socket.
She asked me to write down my name but
between the speckled gates of poison’s
sweet thumb
I just couldn’t say it.
I stand to leave, and she shrieks,
“This is no sermon, this is a love song!
For mud-caked wool and neon sex and the revenge of a spider out to sea!
For fangs descending from tentacles descending from clouds descending from the spiteful wisdom of a hornet!
For silk and mischief and the final seven seconds of sleep!
For blasphemy, for passion, for everything ultraviolet!
For the dying of stars!
For one more night!”
Nobody watches here.
She pecks out my skull,
bone shells mix into tangerine juice mix into ocean mist mix into a technicolor viscera
and from it she spins me to song.
“I am a cell in apoptosis!
I am a meadow of flamingo feathers foaming at the mouth for fire!
I am the beast-child of wonder and hesitation!
I am the veins, and the roots, and the currents, and the branches, and the nerves!
I am the voltage of iridescent blurs and cinnamon bark!
I am a steel baseball bat hitting flint!
I am the mantis tangled in incandescent thought!
I am snakeskin, I am memory, I am plaster!
I am the cyclical whole!
I am change!
I am!
I am!”
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(Featured image from Pexels)