by Kelly Egan



Things rhyme.
Shapes, and meanings too.
What with the ficus trees?
Princess skirts
chiffon below the window.
Sleep soon. 
Absolution: blue
molecular promenade,
a leisure dandelion
     seeds know                 acquiescing
from the stalk.
Here is my orange night lamp            controlled by the city
     like a taxidermied fairytale,
heaving weight starboard
so I can verge—
sandy atoll.
Only in that aureole 
can I offer 
my twenty-nine years on a spoon, 
wooden and available
as kindling.          If you use it
before night
has become
a playground, it will not be enough—
What we want is a circle, 
chance for home that washes up
casual as driftwood
from a sextant. 
The brain a castle
in whose rooms scraps of fabric
await the broom’s haphazard 
each keyhole a flute
  funneling loosened knots
   bright energy. 
When two things become the same
a space is cleared
to say, hey,
    to weigh in, 
     pleasure of waning—
 My        om      with her       harmonium.
why we sing together.
Place the matching shapes in a row.
Correct answer (not
      in the back of the book) :             bobsleigh
     in the chest.
One day,
dipping a finger 
         at the altar of dissonance.