Emily Clarice Harriman
|
Someday I'll Tell Your Prom Date I touch my toes- my spine rearranges rows so humped, bent like a set of ice tongs, I attempt to talk to Mr. Ant Eater--o not the aardvark, nephew Liam leaning into another melted candy covered with ants. He coos, turns an Oreo-ish ten month smile on silly old Aunt Half Bent, his drooling mouth erupts in impossible laughs and crumblies I should be horrified, but I am laughing too and cannot move- my back stuck looking at a revolting epi cure. Almost Comes so close, this heart to being tame but sooner or later old tyrannies creep in crush whatever softnesses took hold for the beat of a bird wing- runs crippled critter to ground -abandoned walking room to room to room thumb in mouth blanket trailed behind, familiar toddler on the midway, looking up to follow stars home. Ceremony Never Leave Unattended, that's what the sign said on the bottom of the candle I left burning for you. All things go out. I watch the play of light on water: fire and water. Wax liquified. Burnt away and water carrying boats of the dead. The tiny souls inside them wave and wave. Main Page
|
