the way I woke up
already in slither
but a peacock,
so resplendent,
touch my fingertip along the
wall and shimmer.
they say I always have a motive
and I always have to be noticed,
like I’m just rocking
with plot.  funny,
I haven’t thought a thing
in years,
just touching things and
leaving notes everywhere
so carelessly really.

The first bird I left was gold. The paper was waxy and had a sheen to it.  That’s why I used it. The shiny paper was recycled; a wrap from the store when I purchased my newest stone, now jostled in my pocket as I roamed the neighborhood.  The stone itself more of a red sparkle than gold but very Hollywood which is what attracted me. Set amongst the other pebbles and all black anything (obsidian, onyx, Tibetan smoky quartz, they begin to blend like that) I was used to rubbing my fingers over, it called to me first.

“Goldstone,” I said out loud.

I have seen you before. Give me reciprocity: some shiny, shiny thing. I didn’t need the woman to wrap it but she offered thinking it a gift for someone else. As I left the store, I dropped the goldstone in my pocket next to the stolen tourmaline. I felt no remorse pocketing that one. As I plucked the roundest from the barrel, I thought it always fairest to buy one thing.  Today, my bird looks slick sitting and frozen in a perch leaning towards flight on the longest branch of the potted wicker succulent. Color on a chilly, gray day. Not brutal but I needed to wear a scarf which always told me how cold it really was outside. I always wore a hat, even today, even though I had a wig as extra protection. I was also wearing sunglasses even though it was overcast; overcast and drizzling.  I spent $5.13 on Earl Gray tea and a vegan lavender cookie. I got a free cup of water. I sat in the back with my headphones on and turned up. This one didn’t say anything; I just drew the triangle with my fingers over the gold paper, stuck it atop the center of the branches, where they all converged like a waiting basket, and walked away leaving my half drank tea on the table. My mouth was dry. I bit my tongue with my teeth to stop my jaw from bearing down on itself and began to count: five stones in my pocket, two pennies, eight straws, my keys, and seven more pieces of paper. Plus a receipt. 

The second one I left was a purple frog in a pot outdoors and inside it written neatly in pen, so neatly in fact it looked like someone else may have done it:

Leap before you look.

That was the very first one I made but the second one to go. When I began to plant the nightshade, I began to leave the origami animals with it so you would notice. Gaze at it first, then touch it. Gaze at it, then notice the white flowers and shrub. See the frog first and become overtaken as if synchronicity is real, then pluck it from its hiding spot and give it to your girl. And if I’m lucky as I am, as it’s proven to be, you’d lick her fingertips that night, ingest the final causticity in me. Not just the way I plant things, but how I always play the rose:

blood-red and innocent, a
beauteous form and
nothing more.

 “Sada”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: