In the green rooms of the Abandonarium
                       –– Lucie Brock-Broido

Red liquid
Pumped through the arm
Is it poison or is it blood

The red bell head
Cauldron of mourning
The jet of poetry, candied by time

Two gleaming red glass hearts
Beating in the sun
I touch them

Smell the pinked hyacinth
The very nature of things
The goddamn essence of things

Red Hell, Rosa Rubea
Burgundy awakening
The sparkling red elixir I drink

My mind suddenly flooding
With love and anger
The great illusions of our age

Don’t hold back
There is a spirit to things
Lioness, flamed in red

A witchcraft hung
Channeled
By confusion

Red blessings
Reddening kisses
My ode to beginning

What would you say, if you could
You stand in my living room
Still sleeping

Come back to me, Sister
Come back, Mother
Come back, I said, sadly

The airplane
The baby
Very small

And waving