by Kelly Egan
i.
Things rhyme.
Shapes, and meanings too.
What with the ficus trees?
Princess skirts
chiffon below the window.
Sleep soon.
Absolution: blue
shift
molecular promenade,
a leisure dandelion
seeds know acquiescing
from the stalk.
ii.
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.
iii.
The brain a castle
in whose rooms scraps of fabric
await the broom’s haphazard
massage,
each keyhole a flute
funneling loosened knots
bright energy.
iv.
When two things become the same
a space is cleared
to say, hey,
to weigh in,
pleasure of waning—
My om with her harmonium.
In-roads:
why we sing together.
v.
Place the matching shapes in a row.
Correct answer (not
in the back of the book) : bobsleigh
in the chest.
vi.
One day,
dipping a finger
at the altar of dissonance.