Brief Narcissus

You want cool light —
Black light leopard light?
Acid light?

Tape velvet to a crane then —
lift up a lump and
drop it in the tub.
Soap ring don’t rise,
never did.

Dropped anvil from a ledge once,
It was my body, my body —
the whip rush slab water
sting body —
nobody saw the splash body.

And when I climbed back up,
the sills were dry, just
long crust, gray on gray,
like pigeon like dove,
same thing,
like feldspar like stone.

But what of it?
Water in a glass
is pudding thick – ruffled maybe
by the the sure unhurried steps
of a dream just crawled out of bed,
of a dream just culled and weary.

I am a pretty boy.

Once,
at least once
before i saw two heads
butt on a ripple,
before a dove broke down,
called itself pigeon,
ate popcorn from the gutter.

Image: Isiah Gibson on Unsplash

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