Arsenic Lobster
poetry journal |
Issue Twenty-one Winter 2009 |
I Went to Portland Alone Tanya Collings Dear Sequoia,
Ross Hollywood Chapel on Barbur street has neon signs in the curve of your nose. My thoughts of you, as frequent as microbreweries. Your teeth smile in me like wine store window displays. Dear Curly-Haired-Bear-God-of-the-Bonsai,
Umbrella toting Oregonians wearing sunroofs or ganja pupil raincoats match the uncut of your hair. I sent the Douglas Fir your text message. His reply cannot be transcribed. Dearest la Loba,
If you were here your busty cacti would catch the wet, sweet rain of me on outstretched tongue after taking a piss in bus stop blackberry fields. Dear Man Made of Sound,
Tonight I sleep in the center of a dreamcatcher on a marriage therapists bookshelf. This land is self-medicated, self-lubricated. Portland weeps for you. Dear Lovers,
My new witch hazel Oregonian hates to waste roadkill. She carves me handfuls of fresh, furry bouquets. When I open the half jammed doors of her mouth you will all cry out when we snag on a lip ring. |
About Tanya Collings |