I dream of my parents’ divorce
– Bethany Carlson –
In the amphitheater of the Lovely, I heard
you calling the names of the chosen one by one,
soliloquy gone wrong, slow posture of fists.
I watched the herd go out to pasture, mistaking
antipathy for the backbone of dissonance,
shelf life for a missive on despair.
See how fingers will align to the interior
of palms, how pilgrims will trail
the brightest star. Bone structure, the bride
as handful of tulle & nail. Lyricism, a series of books
on nests. Failure, a kind of breath
underwater; you said figment of the imagination,
your mouth sheer in its canyon of coral.