They Will Sew the Blue Sail

Poe | Ana Božičević

I’ll be your Louisiana, you’ll be my Mississippi.

You’ll be my Henri Michaux, & I your



— Star says No.

Stars with issues are streaking all

over this nightshade…And I have hooligan

factions inside my chess. Hear them

squabbling: then they change sides.

The evening?

Sorry, this mirror reflects only

the colors of the morning.

I led my horses through the prism of oil.

You’re an idiot if you think

the text can’t do the job… I heard a small sound

just now! Is it — my destiny? No,

just a pile of bricks

stumbled in the corner. And all I’d asked for was:

refuse everything

except me. But your refusal was

exclusive. A void grey broadside

with a smattering of asterisks. And even

after your death

the only blue I was allowed was the skin

of my flip flops…

Why didn’t I fight for you in that museum?


You had only the width of a butterfly to protect you.