Still Life with Levitating House/Wife
from The Suburbium Sonnets
One should never invite the magician into the kitchen—
the sick microwaved-blue of the unshaved face.
Slickered across the hallway floor, the flickered italics
of the five-point antlers as they jaw off the wall.
On the counter top the metallic hiss and crack! of her
just-busted-open beer carbon-dioxides the air.
Through the mirror, a flash of her caught in the stop-
motion act of slow-floating away; her hair grazing
against the jellyfishing glass chandelier.
Inside the dishwasher it’s the butter knives that clink
and kick, those flat shining femurs.
Of course the bread’s been left to leaven at the sink.
Inside it is heat-dark & murmur: keep your eyes
on the prize, it says—keep your hands wide oven.