Arsenic Lobster poetry journal
Issue Eighteen
Winter 2008
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The Dead Queens of Cockerham
           after the painting by Leonora Carrington
Brenda Hammack

How to tell if you’re breathing

Place one hand to rib closet, the other to cleft between wing blades. Sing:
“Some say old devil died and lurks in auntie’s larder. Others say he lives again
and works as under-gardener.” Respiration, when extant, will settle on glass.
Check anterior nares. Milkseed. Dander. Ash.

How to tell if you’ve forgotten something

That hair ringing finger should remind if tight enough to cut off circulation. Send
flowers to yourself. Lichen. Rue. Impatiens. Have you skin on your phalanges
past the quick? Necrosis is a less than subtle hint. Cadaveric spasms only
bother if your petit noir is laced with soporif.

How to tell if you’re transparent

Trace penumbra like a glove by morning light. You might be suffering grandeur,
fever shine. If skin is honey rose, not yellow white, you probably still need
pumice, calamine, and just a dab of Chanel No. 5. Embalmment, though a tried
and sacred rite, can leave one too opaque in winter time.

How to tell if you’re burning in hell

Remember back when Pluto was a planet? You never learned to dissect
pomegranate without staining tablecloth. And always burned tongue on pork
goulash. Now that black sow snuffles seed beneath table, and Tir na n-Og is
hotter than ever was in fable.

How to tell if you’re holier than thou

Stick a needle in torso. If steel retains sheen after half hour, you’re not
oxidating. Even root vegetable tarnishes quicker than you. Some say zealots
never prune. Some say skin tag, knuckle bone cure. Those moldy relics. Ask
yourself, do you really need callas in this catacomb palace?

How to tell if you’re dark-adapted

Two drops belladonna extract, dribbled in eyes, will widen fissures if you’re still
bed-prised, clinging pighead to life. Twilight is always verge. And some need
more advice than others. Here at Cockerham, one is seldom nice enough to dine
with royalty until gaze stops gawpery.

How to tell if you’re blinded by light

Calabar bean can stimulate contraction in the living blind. And prayers are well
and good, but some attention must be paid to what you’re eating. Shall I sit
upon your chest? Must you keep bleating? Blood fruit and fowl will ease such
peevery and speed your day’s receding.

How to tell if anyone reads your missives from the grave

About Brenda Hammack

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