Wednesday, March 5, 2014

If one tumbles...

The pot whistles, four times,
A Reminder of Thomas Edison!
Edison! Hateful physics--
It whistles again-- enough to cut her thoughts out
They needn't bleed, they'd generate new limbs, new eyes.
Now the mushrooms smell of oregano, cream and cheese
A tinge of the forbidden fruit, forbidden fruit smells sweeter:
Like starry summer nights, like newly baked cake, like smiles.
In the room, outside of her the laughter rises,
In the room, the subject buds out-
or flowers,
or nestles
or day dreams of exotic land
Exotic can be us, the exotic can be what's not us--
She doesn't fully hear and comments
She hears and no meaningful comments or thoughts are needed tonight
Relax, let go, smile:
The wine turns,
Like a dervish it moves
Round and round: silent with a million laughs

They tunnel toward her
She prays and vows to make it count
No one hears her, she talks to herself
Now she remembers ancestors
Making their way around soup
With a stone at the bottom of the pot
But life is not always that hard.

Around her they smile,
They offer a train of pinky fingers
Pinky-promise chain;
If one tumbles everyone falls
In the cold, the petals of darkness fume
Moss of Greek gods;
Lighter, airy, higher
The rest falls into sight,
If one tumbles everyone falls
The rest fall out of sight,
She fades out on tiptoes and dancers 'pointe'
in a musical living room,
She stands to wonder, how like a long letter, like promises and fruit on trees:
If one tumbles

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