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rizzo

Christopher Rizzo
3 Poems from THRENODIES
On The Gashlycrumb Tinies, or After the Outing
A

Hollow the hall the house enormous
as dark as a thing that goes bump and the clicking
of clocks.  A glass of water.  Ah,
just clarity some to clear
a little throat.  But where’s the rail, Amy?
Pass that shadow on your left.  Feel
everything’s space, tipped
through, ungraspable.  Reach
for balance but water darkness
like water and all acts are final.  All
desires lead one.  A lip.
An innocent step to slip on
my darling accept a curiosity
quenched.  A neck will tickle
just before it cracks.



Z

A doll house.  Her souse house.
And Ginny her dolly hath rotted to bone,
a skeleton a dead
zone a mirror to show the future
for Zillah.  Who’s the unhappiest
one of all?  So swig in silence
Mother’s Other
Special Water.  Not lye
but gin makes a clear eye
blurry.  Brother James
gone her friend.
Playtime no more more
water for dousing
a cold wound warm.  No
harm, harm.  Hold the glass
still half empty.
Jamie, she whimpered, The world
is really awful is really
awful.



After the Outing, or Skeletonizing w/Umbrella

D is for Dilly and Dally and Daily and Death.
Say a line enough and tragedy’s forgone for
one for once, but don’t read The Gashlycrumb Tinies
if you want to worry and or weep.  Read
the paper.  To and yester.  Many
Someone’s are ailing.  A read moon may
portend bad hap, yet by happenstance
pretend you meant.
Trees shush in a din of voices and engines
a siren and heels the stilts
of stilettos.  Voices want voice
just as engines are instruments, as sirens
are screams to ward
a pleasure reaped.  Pause here—
hear—enjoy what you enjoin
while you can.

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