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3 Poems || Lina Ramona Vitkauskas


Dream 3: Caroline Danske Dandridge (1858–1914)
 
 
“When we strive so hard so conquer
Vexing sublunary things;
When we wait and toil and suffer,
We are working for our wings.”
 
I carry these Saturdays
upon my chest, a
junk mail cloak.
 
A fleet of excelsior automobiles
go by—gods & turkeys,
butter & biscuits,
symptoms & tinted glass.
 
Hi there!
Me suffocation,
me carpentry,
me unreasonable &
spotting flock & fleece,
meadow & fences.
 
God, the folklore sucks here.
And here, in the thicket,
no poultice for my wound,
nor little Zuzu bells,
only chambers,
kilometers of hearts
laid to dry in the sun     along the road.
 
 
____________________
Dream 5: The Thin Columbus of Phenomena
 
“Jean Cocteau,” I scream into the phone,
“You are a horrible husband.”
 
I wander into your home, on film,
(again in a movie house)
& each wall is an unheard forest of
fertile mirrors, there are wardrobes
of midnight, & prairie mice upon
the electric grass floors cross themselves
before the crush of a cycle boy’s boot.
 
The ones who strangle all the
little ones, the ones who walk
upside down under ice floes,
come to Jean’s house in Detroit,
distilled yet untamed; minnows & mystery bachelorettes washing ashore.
 
 
____________________
Dream 6: Birth, School, Work…
 
Part One
An Australian priest resembling
Father Guido Sarducci tells me
I will soon bear a child
named Elemotsian.
 
I push this Elemotsian
out of me
on a stretcher
in the hospital hallway.
 
He comes out of me,
still,
embryo-form,
a cooked, mini-roasted chicken.
Yes, headless—
& possessing drumsticks
& puckered skin where remnants
of freshly plucked feathers
can still be seen on the surface.
 
My father now at my bedside.
My mother says from somewhere
in the room that I should name him
“Ringlets”
 
Part Two
Now at my office—I’m a busy bee.
I have places to go.
The nation is counting on me & what foul avis—
clipped & brittle claws—can stop me, USA?
 
I prune this last conversation with the president.
I remember the frozen Valentine candy hearts
he gave me—I arranged them like a mosaic on my face.
 
 
____________________
Lina Ramona Vitkauskas (Lithuanian-American-Canadian) is the author of SPINY RETINAS (Mutable Sound, 2014), A Neon Tryst (Shearsman Books, 2013); HONEY IS A SHE (Plastique Press, 2012); THE RANGE OF YOUR AMAZING NOTHING (Ravenna Press, 2010); Failed Star Spawns Planet/Star (dancing girl press, 2006); and Shooting Dead Films with Poets (Fractal Edge Press, 2004). She lives in Chicago.