Throw Yourself into the Prairie. Francesca Chabrier
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turn to neon.
This is not because
I want to destroy the tree.
It’s because sometimes
it is fun to watch things
misbehave.
CHEEK AGAINST SOFT PUMPKIN FUR
I am me, but I am a cow.
You are a river.
You think I am cute.
You call me kitten-cow.
You are a river, but your water
looks like a hologram
and when I look at you,
I see a fake reflection.
You tell me I am wearing
five scarves even though
I have mittens on.
I throw a coin at you,
but you are not a fountain.
You ask me to meow
for you, but I won’t.
I feed you chocolate, and we play that game
where I write on your leg with my finger.
You brush my hair for 2 hours
while I spell things like:
cheek against soft pumpkin fur, and
I would come to you on a rubber gull.
The eyes and the faces become less easy
to make out in the night,
but we go on and on.
Wax ponyfish. Japanese fog.
I am stupid at stopping.
The white machine is packed with lights.
The machine is white
because it has let the snow collect.
There is a baby inside
the machine. There are stars,
and also a deep place you can go
to see Machu Picchu.
The machine
produces white paper. The paper
is smooth like the voice I am using
to talk to you. I write a letter
on the paper and slide it under your door.
Hello, please give me back
the umbrella you borrowed.
When rain falls on the machine,
it bubbles first and then produces a noise
that sounds like passing through
an aisle of shaking trees.
This is the sound of the machine crying.
The machine is white
and eats white bread. White milk.
The machine runs on white milk. It
collects snow. It holds the baby.
I smack the machine and the baby shakes.
Inside there are mummies wrapped in white paper.
A telephone rings.
Hello, I will not give you back your umbrella.
The snow turns to rain and makes white puddles.
The baby swims in the water,
and floats on the surface like a bottle.
The white machine is tired. I hold it
and kiss it with my clean white hands.
All morning, I walk around with a bag over my head.
My mother calls on the telephone. She wears a paper hat. She keeps it in her pocketbook while she is sleeping. “I want to join in,” I tell her. I fold the bag into a sombrero. Outside, there are no ships. The bay is foggy and still. I am exhausted. I am like a runner about to cross the finish line at the end of a very important race. When you ask me to love you, I rise up like a balloon. I ring your doorbell five times. I wait for you to have me in and hang up my hat.
THE WORLD HAS TURNED AND LEFT ME HERE
You are getting a root canal
at a dentist’s office in Waco.
You do not live in Waco,
and you are still sleepy
from flying. When the stewardess
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