Midday, No Shadows Distort Suburbia by Catherine Kasper
i.
Midday, no shadows
distort suburbia
its mowed green sensibility
instrument of the general work process
other phrases
said in cafés
On a bench she appears
white haired woman, mother
cement angel leaning
elbows on her knees, staring
at earwigs gathered
in the folds
of her wings
ii.
Would you find me there
or here, tangled in
the family rosary
artificial wounds
thin hip bone protrusion
novena
of hunger?
home-bound
wrist, ankles, fingers
stitched together
serpent, dragon, watercolors
masking taped to
shadow
line of shiny beetles
in sticky reversal
a riddle of once upon
self-punishment’s skin
mother, pray for us
iii.
Refuse
to tell her story
because you hear
remnants
of childhood failure
the winged sandals
the seven-mile boots
the magic hood, the bag of
fortune
damp, wavy spine
nightlit room
chiffon dresses, pale
scarred cheeks
around which bordered
cut-out lines
these pages
more palatable to you
be careful what you
wish for, you might
get it
hidden behind
an idea’s perfection
unblemished
anonymous smiles
iv.
In a dermatologist’s office
exposed to radiation
convent novice
burnt to
bone
take these pores
heredity’s image
dry-ice purification
peeling back is
american beauty roses
coated in aphid dust
worried hand in ledgers
garbage bags folded, sorted
mirror shrouded
in sheets
encyclopedia, e.g., melanoma
plastic surgery
at the scalpel’s edge
thy will be done
v.
Remove yourself
to a paneled basement
concrete garage
where a bicycle flies
in the blur
of endorphins
similar always endures
the splayed edge
how many borne?
walk the dog
in yo-yo proportions
fur of imagination
stroked, calmed
cowering under
the kitchen table
shame, the back hand
of semi-consciousness
words that permeate
the plaster wall
between our beds
a child sleepwalks
into the street
transfiguration of hollow moon light
beautification
of the corrupt body
sock grown
into ankle, itch true fabric
a clotted story’s woven fibers
waiting for your word
and I shall be healed
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