Orbit and Waterfowl

 

Here are we, in our clean white smocks

carrying our easels

waddling in flocks

freed by signatures, approved by weasels

with keys to all the locks.

Gone in a group, out to the duck pond

chicks watching chicks

circling around

like the melt around ceremonial wicks

we the lost, them the found.

We who ate bitter oftener than sweet

who had enough

and beat our feet

into shadows where we flicker and huff

sentient suns in setting concrete.

_______

for Word Garden Word List--Save Yourself

Music: Gnarls Barkley Crazy 

Molasses Girl

 

The starlings. They protect my heart.

Kiss me and you can feel them fluttering.

"Aren't you happy?" you ask.

It is only the starlings rising in black unison

because your desire has disturbed them.

I am a molasses girl. I am what is left

after refinement. My heart is a vat.

Open it and drown

in starlings sugar-drunk and rushing

headlong into whatever will make you go away.

If I talk in my sleep near dawn,

it is just the starlings screaming from every tree.

I will bathe in the oven,

until my body is a cookie you can carry.

My familiars will follow, testing, screeching, objecting.

They are my dark dowry, the price you pay for more.

________

for Dverse "Strange Houses" (of Lee Madgwick) The art at top used with permission.

Music: Jonatha Brooke "Made of Gold"

This Morning At Danny's Coffee Shop

A well-dressed bird talks on a cell phone. We only hear one side of the convo.

"Take the long view," advises the bird.

"Okay...just give me the nut of the problem." 

"They'll need seed money..."

"Piggy bank, nest egg...whatever..."

"Take a flyer? No...they'll take a bath."

"Yep, same old song. Bye, Robin."
________

A Friday 55 for my BFF at Verse Escape blog.

Today's birbs:

Sandy

Sandy put a wedge of lemon in the corner of her eye
so that she might seem more exotic.
Informed of this, the warden had her taken
out of gen pop and placed on risperidone and light tasks such as
arranging
her origami family figures
across 
her 
desk
in order of which she loved best down to least.

The thing about Sandy is that she took elocution lessons
in order that she might curse more clearly
at her celly and the matrons.
The more florid her language became, 
the more she sounded like a potty-mouthed Helen Mirren.
The warden was forced to remove Sandy's tongue and hide it
high on a shelf in her office
where onyx birds
sang songs from pyrite throats
all about which of her inmates she loved most, down to least.

Finally, Sandy and the warden came to an understanding
which involved a Catholic bishop and a solemn promise by Sandy 
not to cuss anymore.
"I shan't," she said,
assuming Helen Mirren's place in the warden's roster of recoveries
and walking straight out of the women's pen into origami domesticity
where black birds fold their wings 
into Oriental characters
depicting the most amazing transformations from best down to least

with Sandy's at one extreme end like an egg or a bomb or a glitter ball.
_______

for Get Listed at Toads. I used onyx, lemon, elocution, shelf(ves), risperidone, and warden.

In Case Of Typhoon

"Lion Afternoon" by Jacek Yerka

In the event of typhoon, 
hurricane,
sandstorm
or other natural upheaval,

the gathering of certain objects and creatures is advised.
Clocks, for their numerical appeal and sense of order;
flowers in vases whose delicacy illustrates contrast;
and lions, generally useful in all situations.

When traveling by public transport, always be sure
that you have fed your lion beforehand. 
Consult with drivers before installing fountains, saplings,
or other decorative additions.

When hosting relatives, serve ham w/ pineapple;
if a lover, light cakes or honey tea.
When arriving as a guest, be sure to bring your own seating and lion,
as your hosts may lack these essentials.

Finally, treat typhoons, tornadoes, landslides and such as equals--
talking down to them or shouting does no good.
Invite lions into your home.
Serve hors d'oeuvres made from antelope or cape buffalo.

Follow these simple instructions and avoid high winds,
use bus and train systems without worry,
and assure yourself of being welcome in the best venues
in tandem with a lion who neither owns you nor is owned.
________

for Sunday Muse #69. Carrie kindly stepped in for me with this fantastic image, because, like a blithering fool, I simply forgot I was supposed to do the post today!

Stunt Double

She calls sometimes--that's how I know she's in on it.
Her voice is nightblue and crushed strawberries;
when she calls me "baby", my true and sure gets a shiver up it.

Her stunt double makes coffee, takes the car,
fucks me, says we have to talk.
I know it isn't her.
I know the bloom from the stalk.

Stunt Double feels the cold in my kiss;
cries real tears from the plastic bottle in her head.
Stunt Double spreads her arms, says, "How'd we ever get like this?"
Like I know her. Like let's pretend.


I wait for the ringtone, a drop of honey from the bee that's gone;
nightblue and strawberries, helpless at her softest command--
there it is--I answer--a sinner for Gilead's balm,
when the Stunt Double comes in from the next room--


your phone held in her palm.
______

for Karin's "A Whole Lot Of It Is In Your Head" challenge at Real Toads.

Brain injury can cause a person to think that everyone in their life has been replaced with "doubles" who look just like their loved ones, but aren't. It's caused by damage to the link between visual processing and emotional response. If someone calls them on the phone, they recognize them, because it bypasses the damaged part of the brain. On the other hand, one can be in perfect health and know that the other person has checked out of the relationship.

 

Left Unsaid

The time change, this forward jerk
offends God--
look it up, Poindexter. 

It will be dark again in the morning--
a half star from the night will fall like an acrobat,
and the deaf ear will snow itself silent.

All I wanted was a particular voice of yours;
the soft one, lavender-scented, rare.
I tried to let you know,

but the order of things was already skewed.
Maybe in the fall I'll get you back for one sweet reclaimed hour,
but until then, 

stay out of the chronology of my poems,
Stranger.
______