Virtual Engagement
you have no name except the one you change
your next wish casts rainbows like a diamond ring
while the guys in pop songs demand your story
or your silence—whichever provides the most
interesting mirror
you can murmur to the dead, but they rarely
speak back even when you leave news for them
tucked in the crevices of a wall like prizes
studded in breakfast cereal from someone else’s
childhood and still what is there to do but
like, post, subscribe, make yourself into a sticker
that peels up from the edges but proves
impossible to full remove without leaving
a residue.
Ritual
a beeswax candle glows while
the oven radiates molasses
you could draw something soft
into your lap feel its weight
the cups keep spilling, fills with
sticky liquid, perhaps
you’ve collapsed under your fear
the next step is:
but fear is a cold hand
to be removed delicately
finger by finger
your sobs have strengthened
your shoulders
the skeleton you carry
is always grinning
how silly it looks without a nose
poetic equivalent of the nude
a word on the page
rarely
has the same visual
impact
as a pert bum
whatever I’m doing
it’s not painting
my flesh
aided
by a mirror
instead I list
various meanings
of bare
prickling cold
a flash
of teeth
Allison Burris grew up in the Pacific Northwest and currently lives in Oakland, California. Her poems embrace the whimsical and cozy, explore human connection, and affirm the power of stories. She received her MLIS from San Jose State University and her poetry appears or is forthcoming in various journals, including Instant Noodles, Heartline Spec, Muleskinner, After Happy Hour Review, and The Marbled Sigh. Connect with her via https://linktr.ee/allisonburris
Chantarelle's Notebook 