Heated glass descends


I wrote this for jefferson because he asked me to title one of his photos called "5 objects"
But instead of a title, i came up with this.

She was an orphan in much the way that we are all orphans, with worn teeth and telltale marks in the hands. Palms up, the fronds sway in their seductive manner saying this is right, this is not right. back and forth until something erupted, angry from the kitchen. applause. warped parquet. Stop, stop, said the noodles as they softened in the water. We cannot take too much heat, we are ill-equipped for such temperature and wear. Leave us, said the silver and the knives. All the while, the window glistened with fever, and we spoke in tongues: theories on rapture, disappearing rabbit hooves and prayers in the locked bedroom. I told annie that i would never leave her, no, not even in a tropical storm with the trees whipping out their skirts and the sky crying. I said orphans are kin in such this way, and no amount of grace in the world will make it not so.

and the velvet down that softly coats their antlers.(can you imagine a tree sprouting from your head? a cluster of pine cones.. imagine that pungency.. imagine the needles falling about your face) sometime in spring, there is a hormone shift and the skin starts to peel off, revealing a bone white crown. superior males have symmetrical crowns that branch off, are heavy, spiked. They carry it slowly, regally, aware of the weight on their heads. This shows superior genes and attracts females. When it does start to peel, it's quite a bloody process. Strips of skin hang down. They start to thrash themselves against branches of trees and the ground, peeling it off. Male elk involve themselves in battle to establish some kind of hierarchy. Before battle, they run parallel to each other, like a duel, but an agreeable marathon. They paw the ground vigorously and thrash their heads, swinging their heavy crowns in order to intimidate their opponent. Then the clashing... I watch this calmly, like watching a tennis match. I am eating small soft rounds of laughing cow cheese. I like looking at its laughing red head, its humorous face. I get up at some point to pour some iced tea. It is cold, bitter and dry. I like it. I brew my own jasmine grn tea and then chill it. Some males become renegades and wander the wilderness, searching for a mate. They have a strange bugle: part strangled cry, part bass yelp. They spray urine on the ground (up to 8ft) to mark territory. Then they slather themselves in it, a musky coat. They roll in the dirt and muck, coating themselves. Then they rise, as if baptized.

 

 

definitions

sunday: rooftoprevelry. snipped ferns and aloe plants. crunchy egg shells. climbing the rusted ladder. escaping scents from tin cans. sunny yolk. silver flats.

monday: small melodic chains that lead to wednesday. etc.

tuesday: lilacsachets. paused. record. violetcolored glass. tomorrow... lupine: the color of her father's eyes. were you afraid? he asked.

wednesday: the day i remember to read v.woolf. bcause... parce que... a soulsister.because...because parcequeparceque. she waits for a brown box in the mail. by post...lovely snipe and tender turn... gertrude stein.

thursday: lamp shades. coverlets. pale blue paisley. glass chimes. wind breaks. far horns. faint ferns beneath her wrist. red blue.

friday: leaf blown. keeping stride to it. biting my lip. pressing down my skirt.

saturday: sleep. ceilings that resemble carousels. small armies of ants. tea bag tears. warm milk. faces of saints. berceuse....repincer, repiquer, une fois de plus.

sunday: remembrance. picture of her on a bus. yellow shirt. her eyes lift. she sees me. i see her.