For Six Seconds

you won't wander into the room where I keep you
and your sundry relics: the silkworms, cobwebs,
sawdust and the soda bottle—beautiful
because your mouth was once on it.

Marisol, I am waiting for you
to destroy me, one line
from the right book would do it
or ransacking the room where I keep you

filed pristine between your own perfect ribs.
You're just like that streetcorner guy
that whacks me with an umbrella
and then apologizes to the umbrella.

Marisol I'm sorry about that slanted rain
and I'm sorry about the whole sky rolled
over us steamroller-like, Marisol,
now reading the Russians makes me wistful

on the train from Brooklyn where GG falls in love
every five minutes. So GG he was happy
because at his gig the other night
someone gave him a slice of Grand Marnier cake

with little moon-grins of mandarin oranges.
Marisol you have been so pretty at the same time
as that fruitstand where they sell peacock blue
flowers, you have been pretty

mean over macaroni but never wings,
wings make you happy like
I am made happy to drink too much
coffee and so much gets lost

on the trains between stations.
Marisol you happened            then you stopped.
You have to believe in a world like that
even when it sweeps you away.

Copyright © 2007 Ariana-Sophia Kartsonis All rights reserved
from Passages North
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission