Eurydice, Run

Just like  Jesus     I   am   a time   machine     I   go   away  I   come   back     they won’t   let   me   watch    things   die
and     the  spy   in   the   spine     a   hearse   of  sense  and  rumors     a bundle      of   all   that’s    possible    in     a body
tied  to   its      back    with   the  babble    of    hypocrites        and    dirty   rivers          if    you    fall   asleep    in yellow
and    awake      in     a  bed   of   cotton  wool   with    a  star   of   nails   where     your   heart   should   go     and   the
cosmetics     of     wartime     blood  lipping wax     in    a   factory     basement    attached   to  a   slab   of   maple      you
do   not  have   to  love  that man      to  slice   his lips      and   scream        what   divination  turned  into   demon   by
ignoring    you    alone    can    remember     and      revert     to    God     I   give    the   woven   whisper   of   a kid   to
her    first   brown   doll    mounted     to     a   branch     of     song       she    sings       reasons     that   we   fear      our
feelings—   To   the  dice   in   the  tree    she  is   singing    as   the   torches   come   up  throbbing    and    grinning
a crimson  minnow   in   her   last est  lap

More Poems by Harmony Holiday