the treachery of want, a rubric like grammar:
breakable, but to do so,
unwise.
magical thinking is the schemata of sleights of hand:
just enough
and
never enough,
only wanting, wanting,
always wanting, never having
without proper showmanship,
the magic of the trick
is that it's always open-ended
the deceit of tardiness, a helium balloon of unmade moments,
unclaimed and floating off into the ether
by the rules of seconds and minutiae.
a curly ribbon noosed around the neck of the balloon,
just close enough
and
never close enough
to grab back down from the sky,
only reaching, reaching,
always reaching, never grasping,
the magic of ribbons
is how they decorate the leash that keeps you tethered
Magic can be divided and subdivided back to just two,
if you think about the physics of sleights of hand and
the trick of gases that are lighter than air.
The clown asks the balloon, Is this
just enough
or
not enough?,
but it's the scissors that answer, clipping the ribbon:
Never enough.
when my body meets
another body after last call, whiskey-soaked,
a cocktail napkin shredded— fibers like the peel of chapped lips
skin on skin on sweat will it be the same as it was
when we were still us
will it be a bridge or a wall
being built under the dark light
of bars, motel beds, unfamiliar rooms?
midnight radio comes on
5 a.m. and I'm listening
from Los Angeles will you remember this transmission
carried over the night skies
to broadcast our exquisite failure
that there was no unmaking of,
will I still shine as bright to you,
a constellation you can find in the skies?
I think, instead, I will be a streak
across midnight, a milk spill
above your lifted head. These raised hands: a wall,
or maybe a bridge constructed in a dark so deep
there's no way to tell exactly what we meant to
build.
Allie Marini Batts holds degrees from both Antioch University of Los Angeles and New College of Florida, meaning she can explain deconstructionism, but cannot perform simple math. She is managing editor for the NonBinary Review and Zoetic Press, and has previously served on the masthead for Lunch Ticket, Spry Literary Journal, The Weekenders Magazine, Mojave River Review & Press, and The Bookshelf Bombshells. Allie is the author of You Might Curse Before You Bless (ELJ Publications, 2013) Unmade & Other Poems, (Beautysleep Press, 2013) and This Is How We End (Bitterzoet, 2014). Find her on the web: Facebook.com/AllieMariniBatts or @kiddeternity.
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