O’Hare


The plane’s fractured side sends orange through the air-- a glacier flirtatious and grim. Norfolk like a necklace dangles from her ankle. Sunlight streams through her cheek and mouth. When I create a war, I begin my research on the Web. She guides him to an opening whereupon he sees her words writing their own sentences. What would happen if insurgents took over an oil refinery in Nigeria? She places her hair in his brass hands and begins dancing.

Pandora does not deal in fragile vessels. The man in seat 10C –how should we say, an admirer-- would like to buy a drink. Athena graced with wisdom does not take commands. Rossetti prompts his subjects to act hysterical. I have built the armrest into a Lyistratan wall.

We sequester our generals, then have them associate with only those people playing roles. Red flags wrap her waist. I lean my head forward and rest it against a chair. She enters the restroom and draws red lines across her lips. I don’t like this job, she says. I want to quit.

II.

His plate rattles so he looks outside. (Note: let the wire mesh windows be the first signification of what this poem is about). She taps her fork against his glass. Your meal is out of context, she says, I mean, do you really envision animals? Most people have left their seats and have pressed their noses against glass. Within hardwood floors, joints fill with moths, descending stairways, white mansions.

I stand outside and put my hand in a stream. Crawdads are a kind of artillery, mounted with wire mesh windows. I traipse through the forest and scavenge an old mason jar. (Note: pace it as it appears.) Crawdads glide across the bed with light shoves from their legs. I try to get one into my container, so I can hold both up to the light.

Causation doesn’t hold the same sway as it used to, she says. He grabs a top hat from under his chair. Now for the seemingly miraculous replacement of one scene for another. She slaps her palm onto the edge of a towel. Sand falls just short of her plate.