Marie Williamson

 Potpourri-Colored Curtains (A Fused Poem)

I am here in the dead end

Playing W2 dependent

Pipet in the socket  

Thistles for your bitchy waves

I make a Brontë moor out of granola

Wedged between inflatable mattress and the wall

Wishbone neck snap crowded teeth

Bleach blue eyes sugarcoat end rhymes—wreathed

Matted hair folding chair-s

Your harelip Harley Davidson

The bus stop sunroom

Fruity Pebble-s autumn leaves

            If the summer could cider mill maybe each of us could Toto a basket

            But these family bibles commit arson to every hydrangea bush (a shrub a shrew)

;

            Define pathos to your mother

            After leaving the light on

            For the moths

                                    Think of their mothers

                                                Moth of a moth—

                                                Er smiley face stickers

                                                On poem edge its lines

                                                Laugh lines for stop

                                                Sign litter junk mail

                                                Cigarettes and Honey

Buns I meth—

Aphor lab these

Smarties in ladder rung

Teeth so

                                    Think of their mothers

                                                Maudlin tinkering muumuus

            Pathos in my mudflap gums

                                    Moth—

                                                Er—mine ink bloom holy ghosted in reference books

Thesaurus in crop top is texting and walking

These say sorrys

            To Target parking lot

            Seagulls while

            Remaining single

            In singlet but

            Symptoms of fairy

            Light lymphoma

            Lip stain lingers

                                                To this pathos in the pothos

                                                            A moth moocher

                                                            Mirroring Uncle

                                                            Sam as parttime

                                                            Lecturer

Rhetoric to rhyme with rubric or Rubik 

                                    But think of their mothers

                                    This thinking is worth 50 pts

                                                            We wanted it first in pointillism

                                                            But then we took it as (diet) Pop Art 

;

But I (a food fight of a pronoun)

Petered out on clockface velocipede

Ranch dressing as a side

Piece of cutup credit card

Cold shoulders are the

Antonym of epaulets

America—

I plant my shoulder pad to the wheel 

Sock Hop Saved (Redundantly)

Sock hop saints

            (The martyr blinded gumball machine

Hands folding to lug nut in ICU hiccups)

Pull out my septum ring

                                    A radiant beeline to car seat

                                                (Only after the arrival of Giotto)

                                    Elevators gasp at no show high heel

                                    Embraces in the shelter-in-place ambience:

                                    Firm fluted chariots conch shell-ed in chapel

                                    Vomiting rose bush Brazilian waxes

                                    While carrying Advil in Ziploc bags

                                                            (Only sandwich not snack not freezer)

            As tires pummel

            We poultice

                        Polite lips

                        Inhabit gratitude

                        ‘s gingivitis—

                                    Glottal gangrene

Press the gas on our break

                        Breaktime Ms. Heaven

                        These sand dollars paperweight

                        Celestial shins down

                        Only through remote learning

                        These run-on sentences beam

                        Eternal and everlasting

                        Chant for no carnal seat

                        Cushions pulling our sacrums

                        Celestially down

                                    Town rims a bunny ear turnpike

                                    Like last year when you swore

                                    Lavender mist soiled your rind

            You’re a saint of anything

Gargoyles perch along my hammock

                                                Slingshot grass seed halos 

Singing beauty marks

You don’t think you could define belly laugh

            But there are breath mints in cupholder

Hold head back

            As I pin in your halo

            As I prolapse virgin hair

Have at it

                                                Following foreground (after foie gras)

                                                            While middle finger owns

                                                            Numeric keypad

            Num lock our count on string pearls

                        We revel in our own pearly whites

                        At the sock hop of the pearly gates—

                                    A gap there maybe

                                                A fence hop maybe

                                                            In her duct tape dress

                                                            She refrigerators past

                                                            Birthday cards

                        So getaway car grow up then

                        They’ve already removed

                        Wallet senior picture

            You were like some mole

                                                            (Years chemtrail

                                                                        Leave them soaking in the sink)

                                                            Misanthropic not Mapplethorpe

Center fridge not centerfold but once billfold if not bilious

But with all this (flying) buttressing of billionaires

            We never reset the oven clock after the power outage

Wink at me once more DTE 

This is Not a Poem / This is a Scatterplot

Do I make an appointment with my therapist

            Or

Do I go to confession?

                        (A screened-in porch slaughtered linen to lamb

                                                All comes down to perforated pull

                                                Lips suction cupped to switchboard

                                                Switchblade-ed in the parliament of

                                                Forgive-me-(k)nots)

;

Minerva:                     the saltshaker              a silence

                        I rattle the drapery around your knees while dressed as a

                        Flapper cosplaying as a philodendron in heat            in heave

                                                            (It is all marbles up the throat

                                                                        Or ants in public restrooms

Prostrate on the floor)

This is the keto diet of apathy

This is the camel toe of catharsis

;

We wear eye black to fluorescent grocery stores

                        So give me some credit

                                    I send you greeting cards

                                    With spendthrift reminders

                                     Of greenhouse gas

And ink blotches howling 

                                    Don’t forget about

                                  Herculaneum

                                  You plantar wart!

I want to interrobang you:

                                                 A brandy barnyard Barrabas

                                    It’s my birthright as mammary Minotaur

In the awning years

            We stuck oars out the sunroof

We didn’t mind the carpet burn

Shadowboxing our mirrored moles

We could claim

            The backhanded springboard

We could spend the day

            Snacking on our fruit leather

In cornice time

We remember our roles as

            Prepubescent pallbearers

            This is what the archaic smile is for               muffling our hiccups

                                    ;

A Dutch angle forehead is all we ask for

                        Each line from an ice cream sample

                                    A side-view mirror scraping white paint

                                                            (Petrol as Zoo Pal platelets)

Easy-Bake Oven interior design

            Cobweb-s the minimalist

            Sleeting down chew toy light fixtures

                                    (Rope climbs in her head

                                    Instead of saloon doors           spreading)

Fanatic—

                        Rub my eyeliner off

                        To wipe your stained

                        Fingers on your own

                                    Eyelids

These plastic placebos with arrhythmia all

Aspirate iron ore French tipped and fluid filled—

                        I keep a cat carrier in my trunk

                        And a taxidermied crow in my attic

                                                Roast me and my ramparts

Make a keepsake out of          a receipt          a hair tie          a snapped violin string

I’ll just lean in close to the sink

      Confess my sins to the garbage disposal