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Tisch It
By: Sarah Walsh
Vertigo is one of those words
With no synonyms
Ten stories
Is a long, hard way down
And you look at the shatters
Of white and black checkerboard marble
Your lips pucker into the V
Completely involuntarily
Limbs are cracked and crushed
By books and books and
Piles of pedantic words
Saying just a little more, please
We think if you applied yourself...
Red editor's ink trickles
Across polar black and white
Ligaments and tendons
And metatarsals and fragile
Water balloons of stomachs and livers
Momentary deflatable bulbs of bodies
Don't take that much.
The kind of death
A drama major could love.
{ Return to 2007 Contents }
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