Two poems by Carolyn Adams
Three a.m. is a lonely hour to die.
But there are
Cybele follows a man
to a small, cold room.
He spends a lifetime there
buzzing in mad circles
like a wasp in a
field of a thousand flowers.
So many, many.
She gets drunk
and watches the fuzz
on the broken TV.
Soon she’s out
like a light.
He opens himself
and lies down
It’s a night of honey and amnesia.
In the morning, a thick red
thread tracks the bathroom
to the bed.
she’ll say she doesn’t know
why he did that.
But she does.
He wanted to be
Building The God
In a stone basin of fresh water
the host shall purify his hands and mouth.
The subject shall be led
to the dew ground. In this garden
the dust of the world will be removed.
The subject is placed on a waist-high table.
One limb is held fast with garnets
the other is left free.
Place a cloud over the mouth.
After marking to bypass defects,
draw upward the skin and muscle with considerable force.
If it is day, a gong shall sound.
If it is evening, a bell shall toll five to seven times.
The host shall make a circular incision.
It is difficult to provide exact instructions
as to how much of the original subject
is to be kept intact. The host shall determine this.
The saw is to be applied exactly at the angle
formed by a ray of sunlight and the bone edge.
The subject shall be cleaved into four octahedrons
parallel to each of the four directions.
Grind pavilion faces on the surfaces.
Polish to a high sheen.
Suture roses under the skin.
Apply isinglass plaster and bandage thoroughly.
The god will awaken thirsty and anguished.
No words shall be spoken
as he is dressed in noble metals.
The god shall then choose his name
according to the origin of his pain
and the volume of his suffering
he wishes to avenge.
The host shall bow
as he leaves.
All shall then
fear the god.
Visit Carolyn Adams’ Web site at http://carolynadams.110mb.com.