New Year’s Day Poem

Tinkerbell, or Landscape with Half her Head Missing

Playing with fireworks, one of my eyes was singed down to black. His long ears were quite expressive. Skin greenish, like a toad if a toad were boy-shaped. “Why do you keep putting these things on me?” he said, plucking at the sleeve. The crocodile ticked like a cheap alarm clock, or like the movie version of an incendiary device. All things passed by in the gutter. I liked to stick my whole arm through the storm drain, haul chunks up from the warm surging water. False teeth. An animal spine. Sunglasses in the shape of white hearts. He woke up in my dress. The ashes from my eye like sad mascara. On stage, I wore two egg cartons on my head, green with eyes painted on, like some kind of reptile with a huge agenda.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: