Sunday, March 29, 2015

Yellow Ribbon

Holding still in the deflated divot 
of an air mattress  
I am always so small
One leaf shining in the window 
Is it an eye that flickers 
Or mouth of devil face 
Talking to me 

picture myself as a pile of jealous fruit
tumbled on a bed  
A cornucopia sinking garish
Like those silly paintings 
Giuseppe Arcimboldo
The fruits that make my body
turning dark sap soft and molding green chalk
I feel so ridiculous for that
Eat me!

A platter of fruit in a dark room
It's right to be a platter 
On this stately Victorian street 
So old and east
It's almost purple 
When I squint I can see black fringe
Silver glinting 
Iron rings for horses 

I wake up in California 
With the vacation bed birds
Hot pancake and syrup of a sunrise
I think about you

I imagine you and me buttery 
Our own yellow house in the west
working together at the pearl wallpaper 
Steaming and stripping
Nectar dripping 
Butterfly outside