Research: Journals
The Journal
Past Issues
26.1
Lynn Melnick
Amusing or Diverting, Not Such FunLast night I did it. Pulled strands, tripled round my wrist
until snapped. I’ll wreck it if it’s good. Last night
the gate rattled before the window boxed with mums,
some almost purple and shouldn’t last much past.
I’ll wake to my watching their torment in the rain.
Things are moving along without me, my blood drawn
melting into tubes, a twisted heat and moan,
roting words crookedly to trance me. I’m wrong
in this room, utensil-wrung stubborn and steel.
I do not want a body, not with what’s inside.
Look at me: I will be young once and waste it
on fluster, ounce for ounce unpounded weight
and pounded flesh. Cake and fig forced frantic
in the mouth, beef and cream cracker forced out
through the same. I do this with willpower.
A miracle, even come winter. Last night,
my one room betrayed me, forced me dizzy
to look in the glass. Small dress coiling
each brutish hip. It was grim, the turn of events
that turned into this. A room of specialists,
an air machine, a mystery aspirin.
Who but who didn’t want me charming?
Attentive! Eyelash, desire; tobacco and fabric.
Please, there’s a cocktail napkin woefully bare.
Here’s what they said when I painted my face:
You should always. But I fear each stairwell, flights
and iron flights to ascend to and if
I am starlet I am starlet on the landing,
overlooking sea-level, eclipsing occasion.
It is occasion why we’re here.
I’m born today and shaking with it.
They’re looking at me looking at me.
Splendid! A fainting!
I’m best when I dabble in consciousness
and a soundly spinning room. This calls for cake
to sugar its spell over a hard, selfish crowd.
Oh look little one you have grown to older.
Oh look lovely one you will turn still colder.
