chuck palahniuk was
buddha the late show host sang
and we knew nothing
of what would come
afterwards because we neither read
and conditions of use of the world´s
pace of the human
we children of our time confused
to talk or to remain
verbal action or abstention
with binary code
our tongues overloaded our
thumbs and sealed the hormonal
in text messages
by the mid 2000´s
in some corner of silicon
our verbs will endure
once we´re dead
with us beati will be multiplied
—antimicrobial preservatives prevent
our nails will be
but the calendar won´t be elastic
there won´t be altars mausoleums
and the incorrupt
bodies won´t be
offspring of the tower of babel´s
first witnesses of the end
with these surving nails
the hollow of each
and in a language
emporium reduced us—
in a tongue that won´t be
Sleep-wasted, I shake out dusk. Evening is for solo-exploration, for lying
naked on the fresh made bed. My body is tinsel coat, my body is a blue dress
punched from sky. Pills make the archetype come easy: cherry Melatonin mixed
with Xanax, bitter blue. Swallow to turn inward. Swallow to skin-shrink like sealed flesh.
Sometimes I fall between the folds: my cerebellum
labyrinth. Sometimes I disappear entirely.
fruit fragrant. Cheek to pillow. Pillow to forest floor.
A peeling occurs. Who I am is the whittling—the collapse into cocoon-stasis.
Elsewhere, passed out
on the lumpy mattress, the cat swats at my visible tuft. My body buried in sheets, my brain
buried under layers of hypnogogia. Life continues:
coffee pot bubbling, televised re-runs, a radio show
piped through distant speakers. Something seeps
in the interstitial: an NPR voice filtering into the dream stream, intoning
…feeling trapped…maze-like office buildings, fluorescent lit…almost a warren…
There is water here. In it, my reflection is a hundred things collected under one name.
Words for warren: bedding, burrow, rabbit hole.
Kia Alice Groom is founding editor of Quaint Magazine. The recipient of an Academy of American Poets award, the runner-up for the 2014 Judith Wright Poetry Prize, and a pushcart nominee, Kia’s work has been published in Cordite, Going Down Swinging, The Australian Book Review, Westerly, Permafrost and others. Her work has been anthologized in the Hunter Anthology of Contemporary Australian Feminist Poetry and is forthcoming in various other collections. She divides her time between New Orleans, Louisiana and wherever she goes when she falls asleep.