Melanie Hubbard

A FIVE-STAR HOTEL


When I was a boy, the blast occurred.
Rickets are in. So we arrange rides
for the oranges in our care. We debunk,

I mean disembark, quenched. Do you remember
the yellow jalopy, Penelope? She coughed
and we knew it. The pitiless win

by growing old; the sorrowful
fight. Disjointed faces break
the frames of Guernica. Listen,

brother, you've gone glaiket--
gape-mouthed, stunned, or simply off, perhaps
to walls of blood. Will you be staying?

Skip the soda water. Soi-disant letters
are cold witnesses. So what shoes
fit the dead? Morning:

I hack and hack the spangled grasses.
Disco dew. Katherine Hepburn dew.
Nobody knew me. I knew no one.


TYPO 6