Ivey Brassil

Brass Rail, Halloween, 1999 Man wrapped in toilet paper asks, “are you a sister?” I am dressed as a sailor.  The drinks could easily kill an ox. You are wearing a queen’s kiss Signed sealed delivered red and, like the best of letters, you simply arrive. I want a red dress to make all hours pass the way these hours pass. The End of Hibernation A slow urge compels. From under the loam, we come up for air. If you called to say the sun was just so I would not have denied it. Not contradicted. The page I tore down came away jagged. Half-remaining. Reluctant to go. They give me three kinds of pills four kinds of afterthought. A discussion of my vocation. A number to call after hours.

Copyright © 2000 Ivey Brassil All Rights Reserved