Alexis Orgera
Knife Me a Weather of Walls
There is a color inside of the fucking, but it is not blue.
–Maggie Nelson
Bride me a favor, duplex it.
Dragon it in the soup I will make
on the cold nights,
on long nights. I floods torrential
in my longing, I stands
statue over a landscape
of animal skins. A filthy heap,
orificed in conjunction with lavish veins.
I’d be apportionate. I’d be a rotten deck-
slatting of purple degradation
on the bluest, o the bluest
bald horizon. Bellow me a favor, beast.
Blood honey are you.
Monster, fall. Salamander, knife me
a weather of variegated walls.
The Good Girls Guide to Starting a Revolution
Redolent of code and hammer,
vocabulary of the marketplace
spells vacancy.
For the miracle,
for the miracle answer our green
bodies huddle against.
Stepping back into the fire
it’s taken so long for.
Our cells to remember, our cells
to be undutied mothers.
To the wolf, to the grabber
is the way and the wonder.
Says the father. Says the sister.
Every life’s a shelter.
If gambling, time aghast.
If emptiness would learn to ask.
Deepening Into
Such a lovely gathering
of tuxedos and shiny red eggs.
Such pomp and distance and the music
like a dying girl in a chamber
of cement bubbles. The piano played
oh did it play without a player
without a body to accuse it
into action. And oh the night was quiet then
at the party where everyone mulled
and hushed and hushed to hear
the phantom piano playing. When the voice
the voice of like an angel spoke to them
to the party to the people at the ball
they’d already been silent for however many
years silence really takes to set in
and it said something into each of their ears
and they were we and we heard a secret
and then in the great hall a loud crash
and from the crash a very large bird.
Animalia
Woke with a brontosaurus crowding
my heart, woke with it
in my thorax dressed
as something maximum, mentalist, dense.
Sad shark, are you my mind?
I think I would be happier
filming grocery carts and fishing a lot.
--
Alexis Orgera lives in southwest Florida in a half-remodeled bungalow. She is a poet, freelance writer/editor, and part-time professor at the local art school and is the author of two chapbooks, Illuminatrix (Forklift, Ink) and Dear Friends, The Birds Were Wonderful! (Blue Hour Press) and one full-length collection, How Like Foreign Objects (H_ngm_n Bks). Her poems, essays, interviews, and reviews can be found online and in print, most recently in Barrelhouse Online, Beecher’s Magazine, Big Bell, H_ngm_n, HTMLGiant, The Leveler, Parthenon West, RealPoetik, The Rumpus, Sixth Finch, and elsewhere.