Poetry Lauren Ireland — June 9, 2014 11:16 — 0 Comments
March 5 Seattle, Night – Lauren Ireland
I’m not crying on my way to the ATM. I would do
anything to make you feel better: kiss you on
your gauze, weep, die, even go to the sketchy ATM.
At the corner store a woman buys:
one bottle of red wine
one can of ravioli
one roll of single-ply toilet paper
Please whatever you do don’t leave me here.
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What am I?
Bioluminescent eye
That sees by the shine
Of its own light. Lies
Blind me. I am the seventh human sense
And my stepchild,
Consequence;
Scientists can't find me.
Januswise I make us men;
Glamour
Was my image then—
Remind me:
The awful fall up off all fours
From the forest
To the hours…
Tick, Tock: Divine me.
-- Richard Kenney
