Arsenic Lobster
poetry journal |
Issue Twenty-one Winter 2009 |
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 |