Catherine Daly
Two poems
from Osculate: Savium
Our two, worth their maximum and minimum,
perambulate, perform. Parabola, ellipsis, ellipses:
I would like to mention discontinuity at this
juncture.
It slices our pair from the earth’s mantle.
Despite our fascinating bumps and creases,
we hurtle, smoothed and straightened.
The earth’s crust is our skin.
Excuse me while I kiss the sky.
Savium: salvation’s salve.
How else can we vacillate
among cosmologies?
from Dystopia: Oneiroi
The actors are on, off,
incognito at a hideaway,
camera dressed at a show.
Everyone looks like a character or
the writers are at a separate party,
climbing from low-slung red convertible
testosterone cars purchased from Beverly Hills dealerships
to impress
arm candy wrapped with artfully placed napkins,
looking like high school a-v guys.
Producers are quiet, fluffed by fluff girls,
having entertainment like industry
in studio city, television city, universal city,
glassy light mastering night
as if to order everyone to see.
Isn’t this electricity
broadcast, flooding?
Passion flows like rivers through the sky.
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