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| Luis Felipe |
imitatio dei
When I want a world, I want it yesterday;
at parties, I’m awkward but believe my absence would be noted.
At work, I’m assured nothing arrives some way
though I have no confirmation, only the great jade ocean
slipping on the surface of the world like a marble
the sky, a blue canvas over the world rim
or a jar of school paste under the blue-lined pages trembles.
No one imagines me as a child because what never begins
can’t end. But if I was a child, I was one who made things.
I made my eyes two light switches, lying in bed,
sliding trees off my fingertips, wearing planet rings
starlight reflected off my fingernail bed
on the street where I’d hidden a hard charcoal heart
under heavy rock: this was how diamonds started.
Previously published in Anti-Heroin Chic
© Merridawn Duckler Enjoy other posts by Merridawn Duckler HERE.
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| Meridawn Duckler |
Merridawn Duckler is a writer and visual artist from Oregon and author of INTERSTATE (dancing girl press), IDIOM (Washburn Prize, Harbor Review), MISSPENT YOUTH (rinky dink press), and ARRANGEMENT (Southernmost Books). She won the Beullah Rose Poetry Contest from Smartish Pace. She has work published in Seneca Review, Interim, Posit, Plume, Massachusetts Review, and Ninth Letter.
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