The Poet Reads at the Academy


[Marqui Sommi, Tamara de Lempicka, 1925]

The Poet Reads at the Academy

–mickey morgan

The chandelier smirks superior,

setting jewels below atwitter.

Modern decorated craniums range

in rows of orange plastic,

the room flora-fenced in scintillant gilt.

Soon, sweet Schubert sap rolls from the piano

as a canting boy, heart held, tuxedo-flapped,

flourishes, exits, coats with rose petals the Poet’s path.

His chest enters first–high, taut, erect.

He begins to read. He drip what is left

of nectar, his old blossom.

Heads nod and tilt like orange-backed

bees drinking. Drinking, they are very soon drunk

by his crafted voice of ecstasy,

And at his climactic crux, tremulous

can’t sit locked a moment more

in orange plastic. Thy rise en masse

and crusth the sayer, straining to touch

his hand, seeking his eyes, each naked

skull desiring the “yes it was you

–only you–

for whom I dripped”

Rolling in a shimmer of common goo.

Borne in a swirl beneath the chuckling chandelier.

Soon, all dip little tongues to wine.

Stately, steadied, the Poet upholds

the plastic cup before his heart

as a Roman patriarch might his drapery.

The glistening cranial tongues lick faster.


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