THE PUBLIC DOMAIN
Inside that little coffin shell, a tiny
dead man with a mustache stares.
This is that guy you've been
looking for
your whole
life, everywhere, and now
he's trapped inside a peanut shell, and
that shell is in your hand, and you can
grab his diamond-
tipped
walking stick
to do a dance
naked
except for his top hat. Because
this is the public
domain, at last, which
is death, which is when they can look
you up, and you can't look back. All
our secrets gushed
up all over the internet.
The movies we rented.
The posts we liked.
The friends no one knew we had.
SIMILES
Like a nanny with a pram
strolling straight into the traffic
some
sunny morning
in London or Manhattan.
The traffic
didn't stop
not even for a second.
Like this rainstorm inspired by the sight
of your
beautiful yellow umbrella tonight.
TORTURE
From the Latin, torque: to twist.
The infliction
of it, as
well as the experience of
its
infliction.
Rumors, thunder
rumbling, some
wild applause in a small
auditorium
after a child’s
terrible
performance.
Or the detonation
of a bomb.
The hiss
of a missile.
“The ground
shook, but we
didn’t feel it.”
No one was killed.
No matter what they did.
No one survived
no matter where
they ran or hid.
ALWAYS
The rats of war
get fat before
they starve
to death.
The way
the shared loud laughter
of two old
enemies
is always
followed
by mortified silence.
I WAS BONNIE & CLYDE
You were Friday & Death.
I was Jekel & Hyde.
You were my mother.
I Alive.
You were God & Satan.
I was Jesus & God.
I was Lost & Nowhere.
You were Single & Hot.
I was Cold & Married.
I was his mind, like an axe.
You were his lips like the kiss
of an eel—his
tongue like the nub of a tongue.
I was wandering lost, holding a fistful of strings—
the end of every one of which was attached to a thing
that was lifting me—
& I was the blood on my hands.
& I was My Hands in My Hands.
& I was His Cigarette Stub.
& I was Ham (the astrochimp) & I
was launched
into space.
I traveled I know not where
to speak to God in the language
of God
before I, alone, I came back.
PHYSICAL EDUCATION
All those beautiful carefree days I spent as
a girl, braiding
my braids & painting my nails & glossing
my lips & scorching my wings & shaving
my underarms & legs & bleaching
the hairs on my upper lip & eating
nothing but cottage cheese for weeks
to get ready
to go to the beach—
The confusion of the past
as fireproof as ash.
The follies of the future
as bulletproof as water.
GIFT SHOP
Shake this snow-globe
and an A-bomb
is dropped
on Niagara
Falls, followed
by a decade of nuclear
winter, following
a century of ash-
storms and ice
fire, preceded
by the Age
of Killer-Ox .
Strike
a match from this
souvenir box
of matches, and
this magnet
of California
will catch fire.
A plastic
baggie full
of peacock feathers
thrown into
some high tree branches.
(There are those who learn
and those who already know.)
A marble of an oceanic globe.
(Some scream. Some don't.)
And even though these knick-
nack spoons are too
small to eat with and too
shiny to be gold, we
buy them anyway
to throw away at home.