Lucky Duck

Be large with those small fears. The whole sky

has fallen on you and all you can do about it is

shout, dragging your fear-ettes by their pinked ears.

They dance a number now: consequence without

sequence. Lovingly broadminded in their

realization and ruin, expert at the parting shot.

Not so small after all, we micro to

macro, swelling to the horror shows

lifted from the sly ways of life.

You, both scorched and shining in the terror

of the equivocal moment, its box of cheeky

logics rattling cold certainties out of bounds

and into the plaits of a girl’s desirous ends.

A little debauched, the flirt in a freckling,

wondering spun to falling comes to this

pert contract of a paradox: saying things

because they will do no good, ringing change

in frumpy mono-determination, fruity and fruitless.

Exploded out of shelter, the tides come roaring in.

Let in the hoarse Cassandras and the dull pain of the

storyteller. You’ve needed those eyes all along.

We thought them disconcerting at first,

but it’s the only way. You live here now

having exchanged etiquette for energy.

Don’t be clever, don’t be shy! Participate today.

Yesterday you say everything for their own sake,

and soon enough, tomorrow, you learn a lot from them.

Source: Loveliest Grotesque (Kore Press Inc., 2006)