A dos-a-dos chapbook, on one side After "Sleeping to Dream" (ekphrastic poems); on the opposite side After After (the myth of Argos Panoptes revisted). Wisteria and aqua covers, cream vellum endpapers: 36 pages.
The BabyDolls & Hans
Bellmar
Is
it just our imagination
or
this lover’s quarrel too
staged
First we inhale
kisses
The aftermath of semi
lust
drags through our lungs
After
I say go be a man You
ask
if I care to be a woman’s
heart
untrammelled What is love
love
You are a sulky
house
I am a child breaking
your
windows Let’s skip ahead
to
spin the bottle Let’s rush head
first
into the burnt edges
of
Mars Let’s open our mouths
to
someone else’s heat What
borrowed
sorrow is left to us
I
will be the antigone of yes I am
over
love love You are sex closer
to
the mouth Imagine words truly
fall
from our tongues
Crash
into the rising sin
of
the midday moon You are
empty
rooms I am nervous
hands
hauling broken
toys
through shattered
windows
To hell with the cockeyed
memories
of childhood I am
no
longer a young girl who lures broken
men
into abandoned bodies Did you
ever
stumble over the ledge No
You
are a sweet thing a mature flower
drooping
You are the final cologne
of
summer Go be a man I will be
any
woman loose & tongued
by
the moon I will be the derelict-hearted
Go
be an overheated pot Burn
the
salt of memories Ours is
the
measured doses of longing
Which
is love love
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