LARA GLENUM

How to Discard the Life You’ve Now Ruined

Out of the House of Bondage

Queen Box

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

HOW TO DISCARD THE LIFE YOU’VE NOW RUINED

 

 

Sneak in to the “shame hole”

Remove the squirming pink sack from the gray pelt

& put a second body inside

 

or hang the body from a telegraph wire that transmits instructions

to those who’ve drowned in an automatic wind

while choking on state-licensed vision cloths

 

Hang the loose skin in a weeping museum

 

Use the smallest bones as buttons

Sew the buttons onto your face & pose in several helmets

 

Or collect the larger bones & make a stylish 4’ x 6’ cage

Plant the nerve-cords in window-boxes

Let them trail down like vines outside your new home

 

In the evenings

Use the spine as a flute to play

the soft nationalistic marches of the “bodies without organs” collective

 

Make tiny beasts out of the teeth & strands of black hair

Sew the animals into your stomach

Advertise your crimes as “the failings of a zoo”

 

Tack the two legs onto your own hips &

gallop through zones of agony

Now you’re a four-legged animal downed in the onslaught

 

You’re a weeping brute clogging the light-hole

in the eye of the sun

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


OUT OF THE HOUSE OF BONDAGE

 

 

The beasties rubbed their matted, lice-ridden pelts across our tongues. They splayed their cruel legs & flexed their sex-glands, populating the lacuna between us. The lagoon where the lacy tidewater teethes on the skull-littered shore and the white pigs sport in the chinaberry grove. On the most ordinary occasions, I wore your teeth, claws & hair, even in public. On the most ordinary occasions, you wore your machine costume, colonizing me with operatic sperm. It was love at first blight. You wrapped your eye-stalks around my grey tongue, slipped your dynamo into my nuclear winter & I cried out only once. We were grunting & oiling down their goat-like shanks for the immanent sacrifice. As they slid into the ravine. As they clamored screeching into the gap. My hands waving about like hooks as I slid down the membrane wall after them, creaming in the spunklight.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


QUEEN BOX

 

 

Queen Box floats high through the room

her tiny teeth embedded in my cartilage

I lie on the floor

puking out fox hearts

So-and-so (a.k.a. the Redeemer) reclines on the couch

 

one eye filled up with damage

 

The vaginal sinus sneaks out of its crinolines

& stalks the house

on its palomino legs

 

looking for testicles of salt

 

I will not go off with anyone

with eight legs