Talent Show
Night’s Sole Flower Is Your Eye
Night’s sole flower is your eye            & green’s most prehensile hair
heart of a chrome whistle about the crow’s throat          the boss’ sun hoarfrosted
upon the dark slant of the workers’ sun          their bulimic moon
sedated by hypodermic blue,  the approachable shade)          unremembers
diamond sunburn of sugar’s long translucent bicycle
leaving bed for road’s sinister asterix sleep          the sister’s junction
hypnotized by the twins of fish and leaves          the shadow birch
crisscrossed in white vinegar’s pyramids          the calcium horns
stilted across your wired brow          the coffin black radio
swirling with luminous coral numeral snakes          love’s letters
linked in burning poppy sperm          the screaming linen’s
fleur-de-lis breaths.          The boss Anemone!