A HEDGEHOG IN THE KITCHEN KEEPS THE COCKROACHES AT BAY
I love your world, he said, just keep it to yourself —
I love your mouth.
In a Star Wars themed fever dream I saw him lassoed
by a solar flare and held there
in a warmth I can’t provide. Blue light clicking
upon waking, wishing caffeine came easy as a boy
of twenty. Think these sausages have feelings — see them
smiling from the skillet, soaking olives plucked
in Florence by a crone with sun-fold skin.
Wish I’d been there popping bottles of Prosecco
by the boastful shadow of that lady. Can’t fake mornings
undone by a brain as overanxious as a surgeon
with a bone to pick. One busted nose and I keep thinking
it’ll shift again, fall off — some stupid uncle’s magic trick
gone wrong: I got your nose, I got your nose!
He got me hooked on the illusion I was whole.
Robin Richardson is the author of Knife Throwing Through Self-Hypnosis (ECW Press, 2013) and Grunt of the Minotaur (Insomniac Press, 2011). Her work has appeared in many journals including Best Canadian Poetry 2013, Tin House, Arc, Fjords, Witness, The Berkeley Poetry Review, The Malahat Review, and The Cortland Review. She has been shortlisted for the ReLit award, longlisted for the CBC Poetry Award, and has won the John B. Santoianni Award (awarded by The Academy of American Poets) and the Joan T. Baldwin Award. She holds an MFA in poetry from Sarah Lawrence, and currently divides her time between Toronto, and New York.
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