Arsenic Lobster poetry journal Issue Twenty-eight
Spring 2012
 
who’s keeping time with the timekeeper’s daughter
when the timekeeper’s out keeping time?

Michaela A. Gabriel

he’s got a full shadow. he brings his own bucket to social
events. he has one blue eye, an abyss behind a fringe of

eyelashes, a secret heart beating different time. his hands
are to her piano what the princess was to the frog. she is

a piano in her dreams. sometimes she wakes up trembling
like a string. when he slips his fingers beneath her sheets

of music, his smile is cruel, like vinegar, like a lick of honey
before the sting. she knows where he keeps the scissors,

knows that he covets her curls. he ticks like a metronome —
allegro, vivace; she shivers assai. and though his head

swivels so suddenly, too much like an owl’s, she opens her
father’s door without spell check, without an embargo on

words that end in damp patches, because he is the one
who would turn around, if she passed him by in the street.

About Michaela A. Gabriel

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