with language from Kurt Vonnegut, J.D. Salinger, David Sedaris,
Mark Twain, and Dorothy Parker
She certainly wasn’t funny. What did she care?
She was an exhibition.
Proven actor—oh, you can’t fool an actor!—masks on the walls,
horsing around.
She reproduced emotions
so it could look pretty when people read the afternoon.
A sort of seeming,
plagiarism
of each other.
The business basis is perfectly level, always.
Oh, she went hippity-hop,
hippity-hop
towards yet another drink.
All the integrity of a litter box.
Look upon life, shrug
and answer.
I took a white pill which the doctor said I could take in moderation—two a day—
in order not to feel blue.
Blue blows. She blew blue
away. I certainly like a pillow and all that comes with it.
Ill becomes the loveliest and funniest and gamest person
so a terrific sense of urgency about the game.
Just pretend held her
temperately pretty in the eyes of most.
Beholders: be amazed. (I knew he was watching me.)
Can’t you just tell me the act was funny?
To cover her silence, she picked up a red glass pear from a dish of glass fruit.
I am here I am here
very quiet.
Spread the map upon the surface:
invent some way to pantomime
inside.
SAM LIMING’s poems have been published in Palette Poetry, Hawaii Pacific Review, Leavings, and The Spotlong Review. She has an MFA from the University of South Carolina, where she served as editor for Cola Literary Review. She currently reads for The Adroit Journal.
The art that appears alongside this piece is “mama’s garden” by GRETA KOSHENINA.