Red Death

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