Boom Kiss Booom Boom Kiss
She swore, pan soaping. I’m guessing brown bat, crow asunder le shawl-shaped collar. A needed house pith we sold gluttons. Her smell a discordant riddle, glyph of State bafflement. Sand lures all spines, heads, had drifters (bad) in charge not of ribbon that fell over her instep. She (bad) had naught self, a goner, biting paste, pen-shoulder, enveloped a thought. She had not herself to write to. She busted lure in kelp, booked her shelf, and in the mirror picked up a boy-look, as when, dreaming between the lines, there were moose on her geese. She belonged au travail or “No, go back!” to re-augment. He, daunted, a lie, but she also chanted, “I’m a terrorist!”
-David Lau
About the Author
David Lau lives in Santa Cruz and teaches at UC Santa Cruz and Cabrillo College. His poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Volt, Denver Quarterly, Wildlife, and Pool.
