from Green Knife
Girls in green pinafores and sneakers
gather between tables to exchange patience
in order to prioritize my experience
one wore metallic loafers
she wanted a Red Bull, she was dying inside
and I wonder should I pay for art today?
already I have observed through a cut diamond
the blurred silhouette of a woman next to a stereo
I pressed my own shape against a cold museum
comparing my figure to a falling staircase
now the man beside me on his phone wants to know
was it the best masseuse in the world?
he is checking the competition
he is comparing rates
he waits for my table while I pay for some water
from Green Knife
It’s not that you can get away
from the suffering
it’s just that there are endless combinations
at the poetry buffet I hear a girl say
I’ve been at home mostly
trying to figure out how to get through
the next few years
someone else says the brighter it is
the darker it gets to no one then laughs
and orders a second soup
while across the street
“Just Salad” stares sadly at me
bright and empty despite the dark
bins of lettuce lining its walls
I eat a very hot soup
that makes my head spin
my lips swell
is it for pleasure or pain
he ate things still alive
on his tongue when he swallowed
you might not have known
how I fell in love with his whip
which I could not use properly
except to turn against myself
now a vestige of a girl in camouflage
squints back at me through the glass
no I guess she is glaring
at my soup
from Green Knife
I smelled my dinner before I saw it
an onion with a chestnut
flower in the center
gluten free of course
it was fabulous
the onion master
is a kind of game
made to look like an art installation
made to look like a game
the claw is giant it grabs easily
any onion
from the pile moves it around
then drops it
repeating this task with the other onions
a crowd might look on and wonder
how anything is won
in this way
and in this way
everything goes on
rotting inside a glass case
