Emily's Eyes Over Amherst

By Claudiu Komartin

This night does not know the words of introduction

This night with little robots and lasers, with Scalextric toy cars

This night dirtied by grease

This night that throws everything in your face

This night that is kidnapping hitchhikers and shutting them away
in an attic filled with toy animals and clowns

This night that is secretly looking at the papers of a poet who
no longer believes

This long night of allegory

This night the old differences are coming to a head, shades pulled
down, the shop shut up

This night anxiously anticipating from the crowd
the announcement of a new pope

This night when white tigers are dreaming of the wind-up bird

This night with neither tongue nor eyes, a scalp from which
something is slowly leaking

This night with its cleansing milks, its goddamned braces

This night that’s rocking you, this silky purring beside you, that
leans deep inside

This night, it plays nicely with you & leaves you bloodied

This night that’s smoking despite the ban on burning

This night throttled by the trepidation of a first entry

This night that unplugs souls

This night that exits the gates of the Machine ready to sacrifice itself
for a noble cause

This night of Lace and Extermination

This night carved out of wood

This night, room and distance, with bodies of silence surrounding

This night smelling of dough and fresh paint

This night when bread and flesh are black as in a poem
by Antonio Gamoneda

This night does not play the fool when it comes to love

This night is a revolutionary with fierce breasts and unattainable ideals

This night disarming nuclear warheads

This night overturning drilling platforms and plunging them to great depths

This night filling with horror those who thought that imagination
could not

This night with great and dimmed stars like the eyes of Emily
over Amherst

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