amphibi.us

I.

And my eyes burned out like quick-melting candles.
And my
And my eyes

II.

Her fingernails caught
on the hinge and were torn apart:
we peeled them off, peeling
and peeling and underneath
opened up tiny caverns, out
of which crawled thousands
of perfect blue lizards. One
was red and colossal and we
buried him in the garden.
There was nothing left
but his enormous mournful
gaze.

III.

I was impaled, vulva
to mouth, on the spire
that rose from the top
of the Empire State Building,
and I tried to call for help
but the antenna tickled
my tongue and the ground
was too far away. They
found me eventually and cut
down the spire but couldn’t
remove it. Later I walked
again, but the muscles
of my neck were always sore
and no one wanted to
make love to me.

IV.

They cooked a fine dinner
but she dropped the steak
on the floor, and in anger he thrust
the kabob skewers up his flaring
nostrils. “But we’ve nothing
to serve,” she whispered. Ashamed,
he removed the skewers from his nose
with steaming chunks of brain
on the tips. Everyone said they were sweet
and delicious, and thanked him
very kindly, although for the rest
of his life he was rather inclined
to forgetfulness.

V.

And weakly, I could see through crimson petals.
I could
I could see

© Sophie Kaner, 2010