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
