Experimentations in Abstract Postmodernism"The Grave of the Great Alley of Clarity Cats" by Michael Giardina
Warm smile not found in her cigarette
A kidnapping is heard at the end of the table
between the box
and flour railing.
He regains his composure for figures
and drops from his cheek
and the air conditioner kicks
and the plates are cleared from the table.
Intoxicated by the game, she keeps her hand on the champagne.
Bedtime. Hand in hand. She sips rain.
The clam shell hell for two.
I can't hear her eyes. Their whispers trump the tension
and my heart stops.
The notes--they crawl under the table
frowning at the fans contact with skin.
A cheek breath thief approaches,
shakes the nodding foundation of warmth,
burning feet till blackened
all brown with hard edges
and weak black slacks exposed
to the pop--having reached back
to picture--walking through the panic
of--anticipation's endless cloud of smoke.
The knots of my cigarette whisper--between acute leukemia caught
in the transplant of pronunciation, from window washing to wonder,
heels to heals for the marrow transplant splendid--crying in heated disbelief.
One cannot help but laugh in a hospital
for the round wooden covered table treatment
with children transplanted underneath.
You mouth it down efficient--center lines rarely clear--
something awaiting me... groundout proof of a catcher
sticking the fanfare in wait.