Lisa D’Onofrio

Sweet Meats

 Week I

 

My new red shoes

lie in the grass

waiting to be plucked

 

Week II

 

A rare ripening

in February

fruit falls early

 

Week III

 

Lap of flesh

against flesh we shower

wearing only each other

 

Week IV

 

Sinking poppies

in the toilet bowl

another perfect loss

 

 

Amaryllis

 

The orange nylon undies on the radiator

stuffed in her apron pocket

before Dad walked in,

the traces

 

of crème eyeshadow,

like crumbled candy floss

The way she moved from basket to line

as if pushing through earth

 

The slight vibrating

when she washed up

Her gloved hands blooming

the water scarlet

 

I never guessed whose small attentions

forced her out of dormancy

he never supposed at all

 

commenting that year on how

long summer was

and longing for the fall.

 

 

Left

 

The stuff

i bought

the last time

we went to Ikea

is still in its boxes

waiting to be put on the shelves

you never put up

 

 

Close Work

 

She’d sorried

from the beginning

Had

plucked

bandaged

stuffed

plugged

until what was left

was small enough

to place under the mattress

in a box she’d decoupaged herself.

 

Then, she’d pierced her tongue

with a crochet hook

and with a rather fetching purple thread sewn her lips together

 

In the end she was displayed

in her coffin

and the entire congregation missed

the ladder in her tights

Except for her cousin’s niece’s friend (she was visiting)

who took out her needle and smiled.

 

 

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