by Caroline Kessler

A woman / loose-hipped in a floor-length
      dress sewn entirely from gold-
en poppies / sings an answer-less song / what good
      is a heart with no one
to love. Her guitar gets lost

in her hands. You’re too small
      to see properly / your lover
offers to hoist you up, hold you
      on his shoulders like your father did
when you were tiny and even when you weren’t /
      but you like being this close to the ground, anchored

in the sand-silt of the Sutro Caves. There is
      a projector aimed at the furrowed cave walls,
a whirligig of all the colors / the ceiling starts to mirror
      the people below, but you know that’s not right.

Your friend Simon says we will all turn into mushrooms in boxes,
      and be buried in boxes made of mushrooms / and then
we will all finally be the same.

Behind you, your lover bobs to the music / to a beat
      that doesn’t match up with the one you’re hearing.
You wonder which one of you is out of tune.

You wonder how to escape his hold on your hips.
      You want to throw yourself into the tiny crowd, bouncing
near the stage like confetti. You want to stay
      exactly where you are / how you are.
You want your chest to be filled with air and light, the easier
      for you to dance. You want to leave, now. You wonder
how to do that. You want someone
      to lay directly on top of you, pressing down. You wonder
how you can feel unbreakable.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: