DRANK A PINE TREE
In a week you can so love someone
Take them to the woods
Wrap them in a fur cloak
Point out tremendous lichen
Singe a steak bone
Then move into the woods
This is an experiment
Like a sugared nut that settles the stomach
Like how the planets are confused
This is why a dull tuft of grass greeted us this morning
This is why the doctor saw a sickly robin
The world is ending in preparation for a new one
The dumbest luxury we invented were cruise ships
and drinks of electric colors
I am sure of this
Like how God is on a mountain
On all the mountains at once
How he hides from us
Because we are terrible to eachother
Like how we say, this book is for you
And for you, and for you
But it is for no one in particular
YOU SHOULD SEE MY WHITE VEST
My dad said it looks like a woven cloud
And my mother laughed and laughed
Your father is a lamp! Is a table!
He is under a curse
He is secretly leaving the country
and we must intercept him
Before he throws paint on the Vatican’s ceiling
Before he rips off the Pope’s rings
He should see my sloppy garden
My hot soup
He should see the way I drift in the house
Smoke in my ears
A sugar cube in my mouth
How I poison myself with dove meat
He should see my doves
Their enormous cages in my house
On top of the house
A large yellow parrot in my basement
He should see my projects
My origami fortress
My other origami fortress
Natalie Lyalin is the author of Pink & Hot Pink Habitat (Coconut Books, 2009) and the chapbook, Try A Little Time Travel (Ugly Duckling Presse, 2010). She is a co-editor for Agnes Fox Press. She teaches at the University of the Arts and lives in Philadelphia.