Vanitas

Paste the blueprint onto any cylinder
& it becomes a continuum, a battle plan
wrapped in flypaper’s ad infinitum.
You'd skirmish with object

permanence. You'd pluperfectly
adhere, rehearsing every gesture
until it’s got a spontaneous
nonchalance,

your flag shellacked,
your target varnished in silhouette
meant to suggest an effete grotesque
pensive in his alcove or garret

or a soapstone ogre
squatting atop an understudy’s vanity,
a gaudy bauble thrifted amid the powders
& the puffs.

Grisaille

Some dabble in the drab palette,
but others’d druther dwell neath
its grey blazon. Down to the millimeter,
rhapsody as planned : neither

merry nor dead, no overflow
too hot or too cold. My climate’s controlled
by the night gardener who harvests
paper carnations,

infuses their duped perfumes.
Our only export’s this cavescape’s acrylic
slipperiness thickening with linseed
yet never caked heavily enough

to crumble. Vacation’s contingent
on placation, on not bristling at their quotas,
& overtime's only for those of us
below reproach.

April 20, 2025