From “Uncle” by Zoe Darsee
I can’t even sign my pre-nup
My hands are shaking in the no-gravity of time
I am the beloved. Between time
This is my responsibility
To float on in the no-warmth of my own blood
I like stripes and you seem to have lost your hands
Somewhere in the long-sleeves of things
This is the level of tantric perfection we’re aiming
for. This is on screen. Time,
I’m sketching it. I’m showing it to you
The level of deformity I am dealing with Usually
I love you, I am going
OR GOES TO WORK
WHERE SHE SURVIVES
AND GOES TO WORK
CLOCKS IN
SURVIVES
WALKS
SURVIVES
BUTTONS
HISTORICIZES
ADMITS IT ALL
SURVIVES
TELLS HER CALLER
FOR A BITE
SURVIVES
TYPES
SURVIVES
SURVIVES
SECRETS ARE FREE
JOINTS ARE FREE
(AGENTS ARE FREE)
WET IN HERE, BOSS
SURVIVES
LIVES OVER HIS BODY
OR BASEMENT OFFICE
THEATRE
TECHNICALLY
WHO WANTS FREEDOM NOW
WHO WANTS A CAR A WIFE A LIE
AN EEL
I say it. To the coming
tumors. Check-it-out
I will make the instalment
insertion the insurance. I will say it.
What you did. Through a trumpet
and see if I clue
I must get to the hospital very fast
I must make an appointment
I am speaking through clear handles.
I am inside clear flute-hands.
I can see the sky. In its hatred
This is a turkey, ma’am, not a foot
You said the sleeves would touch the ground
And now I have nothing to climb up.
I could use this, my best shot
Shoot the angel, baby. Or eat clam-stones.
The clam-bucket is in the manger
I made the bed very soft for a donkey like you
I saw you tongue-kissing the fence again, you fascist
Kiss me or eat clam-stones.
This kissing absence is getting to be a problem
You're giving morbidly catatonic sky-hues.
I am going to crash a tractor, mister
The sex key is locked inside the anklet of insect rouges.
I brought it to you but the rest is history
Instead you lie there like a teen in hospital
You’d rather talk to spider-clams.
Slice up my ass or eat spider-clams
Poetry is a vendor-destroyer. Poetry is a vending-machine
It is wanting to behead the double-entendre or become liquid
after Chelsey Minnis
Zoe Darsee was born around noon on a Tuesday. They are the author of BELL LOGIC (Spiral Editions) and Anzündkind (Creative Writing Department). Their collaboration with Elise Houcek, a lysergic neo-noir poet's novel, is forthcoming in 2025 from Inside the Castle. Together with Nadia Marcus, they run TABLOID Press. This work continues.