New Lion by Beula Daisle
My boat sunk in Mexico
Disappeared as fast as I can
record memory
The emergency of lightening settled like smell in the dusty Plaza
barefoot smoking in the doorway
Sea lingers in the nostrils,
rusty
Running mad on the beach
Bare feet burning
Chewing on sand
My eyes are salt exploding
I take a moment squinting at the cracks in the concrete
I cry out in the same way,
Reporting to a page
Kids in the street shout up at the moon
Their exclamation points launch past the mission bells
Ache trembles in their throats and punches the guts from the inside
Severing the question mark in the bend of my bone
I examine the edge of the door with my feet
Let the ants struggle past
Tilt my head east
Drop its contents by two feet
And drown in my chest
Just forget it
Dreams walk
Nightmares quit after a while
And snowflakes always melt
Shift,
Page down,
Delete
In houses,
Schoolyards,
Shopping malls,
Trailer homes,
In backyard lucid hangovers
On tops of tables
Kicking the dust from under my shoes
Breaking into hurry
Racing for the phone
The doorknob
Racing for my pen
Beula Daisle does not like hiking, cooking or watching TV. She goes to shopping malls to listen. At some point in the past she divorced life, but learned to laugh, cry, feel, think and engage with it again.
Disappeared as fast as I can
record memory
The emergency of lightening settled like smell in the dusty Plaza
barefoot smoking in the doorway
Sea lingers in the nostrils,
rusty
Running mad on the beach
Bare feet burning
Chewing on sand
My eyes are salt exploding
I take a moment squinting at the cracks in the concrete
I cry out in the same way,
Reporting to a page
Kids in the street shout up at the moon
Their exclamation points launch past the mission bells
Ache trembles in their throats and punches the guts from the inside
Severing the question mark in the bend of my bone
I examine the edge of the door with my feet
Let the ants struggle past
Tilt my head east
Drop its contents by two feet
And drown in my chest
Just forget it
Dreams walk
Nightmares quit after a while
And snowflakes always melt
Shift,
Page down,
Delete
In houses,
Schoolyards,
Shopping malls,
Trailer homes,
In backyard lucid hangovers
On tops of tables
Kicking the dust from under my shoes
Breaking into hurry
Racing for the phone
The doorknob
Racing for my pen
Beula Daisle does not like hiking, cooking or watching TV. She goes to shopping malls to listen. At some point in the past she divorced life, but learned to laugh, cry, feel, think and engage with it again.
