| Parlor Tricks by Juliet Cook Our eyes were fake blueberries. We made synthetically sweet fruit perfume fill the parlor, almost an ooze, almost oily waves. Our fancy dessert plates burst with lurid peonies, so swollen, bruise-colored, almost lewd, but already wilting at the edges. Now they’re flaccid, faded, flat. Out of tune piano keys’ wan background music. Warped wallpaper. Failing glue. Scraps of yellowed newspaper lodged in our throats. We can’t read the fine print, but feel the gray lilt of it blurring our tongues into listless little clappers of broken bells. Oh this ringing in our ears we can’t expel. We shuffled shiny flashcards. We coiffed each other’s hair. We played musical chairs until we were all stuck to musty loveseats. Instead of another chair disappearing, a girl did. Something swallowed her, right after she swallowed the key. The china cabinet trembled, cracked the handles off our floral teacups, vomited bent spoons. |
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© 2007 prickofthespindle.com |
Juliet Cook is a poet and the editor of a micropress—Blood Pudding Press. Her latest chapbooks of original poetry are available via BloodPuddingPress.etsy.com. Recent publication credits include Wicked Alice, Sein und Werden, Kulture Vulture, Otoliths and Death Metal Poetry. Cook’s personal blog, CandyDishDoom lives at www.xanga.com/CandyDishDoom. |