Green Luck
It’s all about pleasure
A green duck and a little romance
A green apple that ignites the night
A green ghost with its mouth open
On the fourth thumb a green ghost
With a wild tongue
You can be sure of the lizard
Its subtle heart will be waiting
In a green hood on the metallic pond
Its mouth open in complete despair
You can be sure of the lizard
That it will be waiting
Very magical the momentum
And it’s on your side
The paintings with the green horses
Riding into the Emerald City
And lime-green soda falling down
From the blue-green heavens
When you’re there
You’ll try so hard to forget the lizard
But there’s no way
He will forget you
There’s a feeling that it’s all still worth it
And it is
Mother
What does it mean to mourn
The fact that nothing escapes time
I am writing to you 10 weeks pregnant
God willing in 10 weeks
I will be 20 weeks pregnant
But no matter what
That time will pass
I will still somehow be me
But altered
I won’t be the same
As that little girl
Who dreamed
About writing these poems to you
I will barely remember
What she thought it would be like
Was it necessity
That forced her to find the words
Year after year
The trees keep changing
And I keep losing friends
I’ll wear an orange suit on the day I die
To match the inner sanctum
Of my vicious automobile
Nothing will stop the blessing
Of my son being 16 in a few short years
He promised me he will always be my baby
But I know already from living this long
Time is a promise we’re bound to break
Love is Red
If red is in everything it is not necessary ––Gertrude Stein
A spell
A very hard spell is love
It is monstrous because it has no red in it
It is so monstrous ordinarily
Is that any argument for the use of it
Is there not anything that has so much stretched out
A very hard spell is love
Is there not anything as monstrous
As the ordinary red that is so stretched out
A red hat worn so ordinarily
Is that any argument for the use of it
Is there not anything that has so much stretched out
A monstrous red is so stretched out ordinarily
Is there not anything that has a use of it
A spell is very hard on love
Yes a very hard spell is monstrous ordinarily
Is there no argument left for the use of it
Is there not anything left to stretch it out
The Breakthrough
What will you remember about this time
That I got across the icy blue river
Were you all in one piece
No
There is a marigold statue
She is a woman
She sits on the edge of the lake
Right next to a green tree
Will you go to her
I will want to
What is put there
The red hearts that my sister left for me
What will they say of this time
That we survived
Will you ever pick up the orange rabbit
No
Me
All we have is one day and then the night and then the dark
I gave up poetry but then again here we are
All those people that I was
I hated her as much as they hated me
But now in a gentler light
I love her more than any of it
It’s not shameful to realize that you all are the illusion
And I am not!
I gave up all of it for you
And all you could muster were some frogs
A yellow light
You said a sun was in a basket or a bowl
Deeply embedded in the imagination
I believed you then
Knowing the real reality is a metaphor
And that the sun is no illusion
And that there may be no one good day left
All we have is one good minute
What will you do on this last day
All I ask is that you tell me I’m a butterfly
Dorothea Lasky is the author of several books of poetry and prose, including the forthcoming Memory (Semiotext(e)).
Instagram: @dorothealasky
