Transmigration
How the World Ends
Unless
the fog is the knife without the window
let's blow this dump and rage in the corner
i blame the number 7 and the ladder of
these steps are bloody
the only thing i can say is
“the age of plaster is over”
these walls will fall i swear
Dreadful stuff accumulating in the dusty too-big house:
rusted ancestral snuff boxes
crumbling trinkets saved in semi-seeable plastic bags
These are some of the detestable things that were done:
black humor
bad puns
Clothing as cover-up hides corroding flesh:
bald spots hidden with hats
thighs of celluloid covered with slacks
Biodegradable body:
loved once then nothing much.
scraps of consolation mixed with lack
Shroud the beautiful face
in a cloud
of time.
Raw and fierce after her first baby. It was a girl, a beauty from the beginning, a lush beginning of love. Followed by depression and a suicide attempt no one could get her to speak of. Except for Eva. Except for love. Eva was the baby that was never born. Eva was the even more perfect daughter. Eva was the close friend. The one who inherits her earrings. Unless there is no one.
Bobbi Lurie is the author of The Book I Never Read, Letter From The Lawn, Grief Suite and the morphine poems.
