In the green rooms of the Abandonarium –– Lucie Brock-Broido
Red liquid Pumped through the arm Is it poison or is it blood
The red bell head Cauldron of mourning The jet of poetry, candied by time
Two gleaming red glass hearts Beating in the sun I touch them
Smell the pinked hyacinth The very nature of things The goddamn essence of things
Red Hell, Rosa Rubea Burgundy awakening The sparkling red elixir I drink
My mind suddenly flooding With love and anger The great illusions of our age
Don’t hold back There is a spirit to things Lioness, flamed in red
A witchcraft hung Channeled By confusion
Red blessings Reddening kisses My ode to beginning
What would you say, if you could You stand in my living room Still sleeping
Come back to me, Sister Come back, Mother Come back, I said, sadly
The airplane The baby Very small
And waving
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