How quickly the faces avert themselves, the red light gleaming in the corner
where it was where I was not looking.
Now I know why frogs came and collected themselves in my chambers,
making travel music in their throats.
Each rock contains a powder, and stars are dark, just underneath their skins.
The lump is discovery awaiting.
Today there was a film of the grass to see, and when it was made. The Continental
passed it with its strange winged doors.
Twice. I kept gluing myself to feathers, and every other foolish and delicate thing
that smelled like forever.
My face swells a passport. I take sugar without my tea, I tell the attendant.
Eyes don’t age, she says.
Roman numerals, you ask of me, can you read them? No I say, I cannot read
them, before I say, Yes, yes I can.
Theodore Worozbyt is the author of the chapbook A Unified Theory of Light, published by Dream Horse Press, and a full-length collection, The Dauber Wings, winner of the first American Poetry Journal Book Prize, which will be released in early 2007. New work appears in Crazyhorse, Image, Margie, New England Review, Noon: The Journal of the Short Poem, North American Review, Paris/Atlantic Journal, Ploughshares, Poetry, Poetry Daily, The Southern Review, and Verse Daily. (updated 11/2006)