the hall of mirrors
idle in independence
my nowis a selfish one
lynchpin of my ownfrayed plot
in these great hallsi’m drawn in by glint
metalbreastplatejewel-wing stained glass
behind this great doori’m removed from life-
giving soils& the all-knowingbranch
i can’t really sayout loudhow i feel
beheadedat the sightof a little dog
with cataractsin each eyefrosted past
the embersacred to remember
the cabinet
i can’t be alone enough
midst the dried mayfly
keeping spiders company
or the dolls who wail
heavily awake
each antique
laid stiff as rhubarb
parts of ourselves
begin to disappear
value misplaced
on the opal eyes
of my figurine
rekindled
somewhere
spell-less
the auditorium
i hardly feel mein this great roomin that great roomof creature ornamentspresented
fragmentshands & feetlined up like cruciferselliptical as the palazzo del bograce &
greenscrocodile dragon toadold & new worldswound & woundmy bodymy
mindmy realismmawkishmagenta as a radishat the cartographyof dead or alive
palmistrymy teeth growlonger than any rabbitβsat the thought of stayingin this
brassica bed