Three poems by Michelle Penn
Pastoral
after Dorothea Tanning
birds haunt the train tracks
and the doors beyond doors
urban birds, a necklace worn by trees that haven’t yet been slashed back,
while the ones that have stand sheepishly, apologising
for all that sky exposed
spray-painted on a wall in red: FRESH
spray-painted on a wall in green: EAT DA RICH
the twitter-birds and big storks know how to tease
a door opens to a book, you wear a paper dress, stare into a mirror
that’s a sunflower
a frenzy
a frame of rage
something thin pushes into morning
faith creeping from its field, leaking its words in scraps
newsreader \ sibyl
hands \ hands \ my hands \ slashing
air to symbol \ shuddering invisible words \
the gods \ riding my lips \ as river \
how do you dress \ a vessel \ i wear
no scent \ carry \ the stink \ of prophecy \
wrap myself \ in stolen cloth \ the stammers \
of a savage \
people \ dip their eyes \ pass in fear \
in awe \ as though this messenger \ makes
her message \ as though flowers \ don’t
revolt me \ with decay \
someday \ every memory \ will be drowned \
this place \ will be my sole name \ i will sleep \
while priests \ read my riddles \ the gods \
work up \ new and more terrible \ thirsts
the gift
the ladder-god hands me a cherry
says it’s an apple
assures me it’s been an apple
all along
all signs
point cherry
the swollen bulb of it
dark heart
planet in my palm
the ladder-god says, apple
rungs hover in air
I bite through the cherry
to prove I’m right
my chin drips with juice
the ladder-god says, apple
the garden turns to pulp