YOUR MAGIC ELECTRIC FLY TRAP

you always danced like a chipped ballerina in an old music box
on your tiptoes tipsy and graceful as grieving as you moved
like tattered fabric in a hurricane to the freezer door and the bottle
of moonshine iced and singing old slave songs to you in keys
that you made up in your mono radio mind

afflicted by static and late night restless scribbles on your skull
you danced like a chipped ballerina in an old music box
on the dresser next to an empty glass of melted ice that wreaked
of old man whiskey and unswept dust silent but scruffy and
the vanity mirror that you fell into laughing like the mad woman
that it was so easy for the world to fall in love with from the safe side
of the looking glass

and the valet that had nothing but condom wrappers and illegible numbers
and ripped up lottery tickets and change that you found in a tizzy
as you dug deep into the sofa of the cushionless sofa that you fashioned
into a fainting couch where you psychoanalyzed your demons with your devil
dressed in your favorite dress oh yes your favorite dress
the one you wore to prom when you bled wine all over his
white leather backseat

you always danced like a chipped ballerina in an old music box
to songs from pulp fiction and lights designed to brighten the wide eyes
of a monster who has found her own wild rumpus and ate it whole
like the world’s saddest slice of grocery store birthday cake
and i waltzed beside you in steps of three but i was just a moth
dream-dancing around your magic electric fly trap

COPYRIGHT BRICE MAIURRO 2013

READ “WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN, OLD POET?”

Author: brice maiurro

Denver poet. Author of Stupid Flowers, out now through Punch Drunk Press.

9 thoughts on “YOUR MAGIC ELECTRIC FLY TRAP”

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