DEDICATIO: Behind the Green Door
for Julianne Buschbaum 1970-2017

Amnesia the pocket serum sacrament
blow dart dawn to the waking saints 

in a sunrise split as perforate tissue.

A pink dawning in a tissue perforate
with the hieroglyphs of Etruscan angels.

A creeping yellow slow as subatomic
parcels, chutes lateral in jeweled stars,

dust the tongues of snowblowers.

Antibodies spun in fool’s gold hold to
sugar angels arches; her steady rocking

sperm, a siren tip, hair ribbons;
a body and her release, orgasm’s

rocking chair flooded, shadow spindle
wood, locked sighs in paint’s drying point.

Downcast we pull acoustic chlorine’s
loose guns to no effect. Bodiless we weave

in the Red Letter sewn to a target, notes
of a glass violin always closer. Our Icarian

forceps leak away as diurnal shadow,
all to the music box’s silk purr.

Flypaper music bars holding the grooves,
seen through De Chirico’s silkscreens,

white star bits falling in webbed geometry.

Gouaches wreathed on medusa’s head,

her night music laced,
her auroral doll roast.