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