I saw Melissa Broder read her poetry at apex art space in Tribeca last year and was instantly in love. Cute as a shiny new button, Broder read her poems with a twinkle in her eye and a lilt in her voice, and after reading the dark gems below, perhaps you’ll see why that might be compelling.
Powered
A lamp powered by blood is called
a miracle and a legend
powered by blood is called a church.
I am not against anything
not even infinity I
just don’t want to be made to watch.
My consort’s head is burning hot
so I take it off. This is not
how compassion works but it works.
What of next? Next the headless man
and I go dancing on a death
til we’re dumb dumb dumb and blonde blonde.
Oh how I love a dumb blonde neck.
No universe tells it to stop
and put an apple in its mouth.
Gold Lipstick and the End of Summer
Who knows what old ladies are?
They want their copies back
Some cannot recall past lives
This must be satisfying
I must be lazy
I can barely grow old
I am hiding in the bottom drawer
All my girls are there
Aloha girls
Road-stained warrior trucking girls
Ski holiday village girls
Girls with forks of fat
Saintly girls on rosary hum
Disco marigolds
Gingerbread goodie-goodies
Little punk rabbits.
Itinerantdaughter's Blog 
Leave a Reply