Tag Archives: illusion

artifice

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the twinkle lights hang in neat rows
across the yard
season-less
as appropriate for a summer cocktail hours
as the Christmas holiday

on languid June nights
they appear to break free
from imprisoning wires
straight lines unraveled
by flash mobs of fireflies

NaPoWriMo Day 9

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Bear My Broken

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sidestep the manhole
cover
visible crack in the thick
disk
they’ve been known
to split wide
swallow whole
the woman
with red, unadorned cup
falling from graceful
into plastic bags
and gobs
would he still spit
if this was his bed
cemented
under foot
resting uneasy
by the smell of fresh donuts
while heels and trains clack
alarms
to be ignored
in a land trumped
by an illusion of bootstraps
may be best
to burn

December 2015
Julie Ayers

Less Than Prime

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Filet mignon
may no longer really be
filet mignon,
rather a hodgepodge
of less desirable bovine scraps
stuck together with meat glue,
passing as prime.

Currently approved to reassemble
bits of broken cattle,
she anxiously awaits
the FDA expansion
for use on human hearts,
hoping to finally reattach all
of her wrecked and fragmented pieces.

 

Julie Ayers
NaPoWriMo Day 15

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Toppings

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IMG_3187Toppings

Her brown shoulders bare
but for the merest of white silken straps
she glides
into the glass wrapped
dining room
in her size 0
backless
low-front-cut
dress
slips into the ocher chair
pulled back for her
by the disembodied
dark hair dusted hand

Padma then eats

Plate after plate is tendered
she sups on the finest morsels
fashioned by eleven astounding chefs

Her perfection
breached
by that one long scar
on her arm
which allows us
to almost believe
she is not so dissimilar to us
that the burger we clutch
could yet be transmuted
to divine truffle risotto
that we
too
can eat more than our fill
brush the crumbs from our laps

and rise
tall and willowy
smiling
into the camera
disgorging judgment

February 2014
Julie Ayers