Arsenic Lobster poetry journal |
Issue Twenty-eight Spring 2012 |
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who’s keeping time with the timekeeper’s daughter when the timekeeper’s out keeping time? Michaela A. Gabriel he’s got a full shadow. he brings his own bucket to social events. he has one blue eye, an abyss behind a fringe of eyelashes, a secret heart beating different time. his hands are to her piano what the princess was to the frog. she is a piano in her dreams. sometimes she wakes up trembling like a string. when he slips his fingers beneath her sheets of music, his smile is cruel, like vinegar, like a lick of honey before the sting. she knows where he keeps the scissors, knows that he covets her curls. he ticks like a metronome — allegro, vivace; she shivers assai. and though his head swivels so suddenly, too much like an owl’s, she opens her father’s door without spell check, without an embargo on words that end in damp patches, because he is the one who would turn around, if she passed him by in the street. |
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