Arsenic Lobster
poetry journal |
Issue Nineteen Spring 2009 |
standing offer/birthday saints Janie Gleason I could offer you a plate of pancakes or a riverboat, to jump ship or the purchase of several pounds' worth of finally finished; lamb's ears soft and green, phrases in a basket, all lobster- and salt-coloured; I could offer you a cup of ocean, a handful of islets, a kiss on the back of your neck; a tribe of pencil-thin men with long moustaches and sandy hair to be your friends and offer curt advice. I could offer you curds of cheese, clotted cream, impertinent remarks; I could offer you a sudden burst of solid insight the colour of canals and orange rinds; I could sing you to sleep filmgrain songs and my head on your lap; I could risk losing you to a girl made of brown sugar, I could welcome you home to a wasps' nest. I could let you love my hair, I could love your biscuit teeth, I could be the colour of grapes and black beans, I could be obscure, and unflattering, and yours; standing saints, birthday offer. |
About Janie Gleason |