Frances Foley by Edwin Dickenson
The Bride by Peter Chan
Caught by Keita Morimoto
Drawers of a memory’s bones,
sea shell geodes, sparkling, but not for us, and certainly not to please you.
A well oiled rainbow dancing up a horses woven neck,
trying to dig to you, dig to find treasures, to rebury parts of her for you to
find along your path.
Furred minerals, waxy skinned rocks, carve flesh away to strip-mine her hurts.
Stroke the pet sphinx till she purrs you truths, and remember,
she used to be just a girl, too.
Now she’s made of plastic pony bodies, nylon hair, diary pages and vellum wings.
She’ll claw at you and dig, burrow in your chest,
lock herself in your well oiled drawers, swallow the key and
scrape at your walls with nails of opal and cheap glitter.
You’ve grown lean and the edges you seek are now in your own bones,
sharpened by acetone winds.
My classes this semester are so far fantastic!
I am overwhelmed, but in a happy way. Last friday was silly. It started with me slapping together nonsense with paper-mache and dried pasta in intro to sculpture and then disintegrated into a cuddle puddle in my animal drawing class, giving all the pets to a golden retriever named Zack. Friday was a little bit like daycare. It’s a nice way to end a long week.
Also, happy future V-Day! I uploaded a spooky valentine to my RedBubble shop.