Selections from "Mermaid Gravy," Julie Wells

Selections from "Mermaid Gravy"

(Julie Wells)

III.

Monogrammed towels are not in your

future. I see answers and questions.

I see beauties stripping off dresses to reveal hot patient skin

too sweet for you. I see women in your future

women who cannot change oil, but can afford

for you to, daily. I see hairs rolling on your bed

breaking words into bars, notes, chords. I see you

stepping in, becoming the song you should.

I see your voice pretend help is for the unfit only.

I see your essential voice in the background: help.

I see escape creep into your neck as she sleeps. I see speed

in your synapses as she lies in your bed. I see Heaven devouring

you.

I see riches dehydrating even your tongue. I see

pink shirts in your closet. I see tapas filling you

with indecision. I see your unsteady stick house.

I see you jumping in sheets and I see Sugar waiting for you

to finish. I see monogrammed towels in her eyes. You see.

You see answers and questions. I see beauties

stripping off dresses to reveal hot skin.

IX.

I cannot see my face. Shallow eyes shave

morning fuzz. Silence questions its existence:

long air, insulation, shredded art. Language

is an atom tossed from the hand of absence,

a glass balloon hoping for teeth, shrieking at the pain

of losing nothing, trapping itself in cans.

Language questions the subconscious duet

we all hide. Language questions

our paradoxical feminine masculinity,

and let me tell you how not perfect the answer.

Let me tell you how radioactive.

Let me tell you how you’ll breathe.

XVIII.

Try to hold on

to our origami rose.

Allow letters

to close shops.

Roll on the grass.

Attend carbon turns.

See beauty in the lie of yes

as my dyslexic tongue

says no. Attach

by a thin thread.

Hold our alphabet.

Disclaim Twenty-third Street

sidewalks. Disrobe your pyramid

of skin. Let me tell you.

Be a duet of amber and wood.

Layer ribbons on top.

XXIII.

It’s about the paradoxical femininity

of tough leather. It’s about a scream

an answer to stillness and shallow eyes.

It’s about causal art: filled with ghosts and steam,

breathing pink air, tossed from the hand of language,

sharp chunks of gold. It’s about your mouth

made of pennies and garnets, spilling words and smoke

and carbon and burning echoes. It’s about the shriek

of glass falling from your fingers and the pain

of losing something you’ll never own. It’s about leaning

closer. It’s about telling. It’s about a definition

which is not equivalent to a set of points.

Athens poets and wordsmiths gather tonight at Flicker Bar around 8 p.m. to bid goodbye to Julie Wells, editor of Proetry magazine and a dynamic force in the Athens spoken-word community. She is moving her considerable talent to points north, and what is Athens' loss is certainly Jersey's gain. Those of us who were honored to hear Julie read at the monthly Word of Mouth events at The Globe know she is a writer of unique gifts and untiring energy. Best of times lay ahead for Julie and Michael (himself no slouch at turning a phrase -- we'll miss his words and his headgear too!), who it is hoped won't forget that the road out of Athens also just as surely leads back.

These selections from "Mermaid Gravy" appeared online at Proetry and at the Word of Mouth website.