If You Can’t be Real, be Surreal (I Just Get My Religion from People)

 

I Just Get My Religion from People

She hooks one long red fingernail
and her left ear disappears.
She points the nail tip to her thumb
and the table rises into the air.
She wrinkles her nose and the table
comes down but the lights go out.
When they come on,
she’s gone but her shoes are still
under the table,
one toe pointed backward––
one heel broken.

Music shows in the air,
hung there by its black tails.
I open a window, blow
jazz to the corners of the room.
I open the door and her shoes walk
out on the wrong side of each other.
“How’s she doing today?” asks the doorman
on my way out.
“We’re getting her act together,” I say.
Catch up to her shoes at the
taxi stand at the corner,
hail them a cab.

For the dVerse Poets Surreal Poetry prompt.

 

 

 

verseVV

18 thoughts on “If You Can’t be Real, be Surreal (I Just Get My Religion from People)

  1. hank77

    kaykuala

    Retains one in a magical dream extending magical episodes every so often even not allowing one to catch our breath before the next one appears. Beautifully surreal Judy, Ma’am!

    Hank

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

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