A poem a day in April from Rutgers English PhD students and friends.

Wednesday, April 6, 2011


We're like doctors, says the lady in the red kimono
over her shoulder as they mix and mix. Alchemists,
I think, but trust them anyway. The lilac-blue
that spits and sizzles at my elbow. They paint me up
with gobs of Thousand Island dressing. If the Thousand
Islands burned. Not too hot, not napalm, but for a while,
for hours. What if someone painted me
orange every day, and dunked me under.
What every day one tinfoil horn
sloughed off and every day a new one grew
full of a foaming creaming keratin
and in between the magazines
a stir, a diagnosis, someone sang? Not much
getting done, but not much ever does.

1 comment:

  1. love that tinfoil horn "full of a foaming creaming keratin"