Brian Trimboli
from (Opera)
The Brothers, Perdendo and Perdendosi
*
Only the violins now. Only the irreparable
body. Disorientation like lost teeth.
The apple, the mouth, the what it destroys.
Only the unconceivable concept of a needle
and some dope. The backlight
separates him from the background.
Perdendosi smothered beneath a pillow
beneath his father’s hands beneath a gasp
from the audience. “If you panic,
you will die,” In Rilievo says
while holding the pillow over Perdendosi’s face.
Night Phlox
I.
And his hair smelled like red licorice,
the flushed pink of his cheeks pallid
in those late hours. I learned to stay
awake to be with him. I laid beneath
the covers until my mother
turned out the lights in her room.
The hum of the television knocked
at my door and reminded me to let him know
I couldn’t sleep. We share this, he told me
and I was happy to know.
We’re nightbloomers, he said
as we surrounded ourselves with bouquets of Midnight Candy,
and laughed until we became sick with their smell.
II.
the bees around our apartment
it was early fall he overdosed
large and clumsy his face fragile
placid my younger brother opened
the unlocked briefcase stuck his hand in
and took out a small bag held it up
some precious sun a universe no
light four years old pursed
as if to place the crux on his tongue
my mother came home my father
graceless spilled out of his room
his skin the shade of night phlox his face
as empty as a glass of air
III.
it is impossible as sleep this board
of wood I lay on at night my wife
my child like dolls the baby a tickle
at first but now every inch of skin
on my body beginning to itch
the rivers have found their way out
of my stomach it won’t be long I’ll wake
with my chest against her back I am afraid
of my bed so we place blankets
on the floor move the pillows down
and I swear she looks at me maybe
like I am the bullet or no I am the gun
the children then the bullets and she
would think I might pull the trigger
from (Opera)
The Brothers, Perdendo and Perdendosi
*
Trains heading toward each other
on the same track. I was born
like anyone else without a father.
I was born a torrent of outside sound,
the night sky circling above. Come down.
Play the weathered wrecking ball of yourself
and I will show you neglect. Come down come
down and I will ask you where have you been,
what dark have you hid among the garden.
Moonflower sprouting louder than a steam
whistle, and its blossom is tempered steel.
Creation Myths
10.
Impossible things seem possible to me. I can’t shake
the feeling we, underestimated in every ability, settle
for a lesser universe.
Somewhere down by the boat-factory
incredible things go unnoticed. Forget the minor miracles
I’ve begun to think myself immortal. Forgive me Death,
I’ve tasted something timeless
While creating the world,
a parrot on my shoulder,
“Only the people I know
grow older, only the people
I know.”
Sweet bird,
I was an unrealized concept
until I met you.
Creation Myths
1.
There was a room full of people and then there wasn’t. The blood in my leg drained to my
feet, and for a second I felt nimble enough to walk. It was the moment before or after I realized something.
“What am I about to forget?”
Some everything crowded its way through the window and left puddles of mercury in the air.
All in the scope of things, considering. Simultaneously, I lived in a room for an entire year, and as I slept that night. What amazing things have I brought back?
On top the flagpole, the archers improve their accuracy.
“I am of one mind—hive and swarm—and as the noose tightens around my neck, it feels
somewhat familiar. I am always in the process of finding out I don’t escape.”
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