Alla Prima
by Adrian Silbernagel
As to what, or who, will deliver you to day.
Decide to climb a fire escape.
No emergency emerges—climb it anyway,
And as you mount the final rung lean back
to open and flood your lungs with onyx
oxygen: elixir of the half-gods of dawn, even
Overdose. It is of paramount importance
here, to not fear abundance: the full
moon fondling a harem of androgynous birches
At the out-skirts of town—femme on femme
light— white magic just cast
across the lost field of vision
Like no tomorrow, and oh—the deep breeze
moaning through those smooth,
those moon-strewn knees.
It is of paramount importance to embrace
repetition, again and again,
the object of passion, and let go
The breath gaining speed for speed’s sake,
no—for the sake of the breath—
a wind chime unfreezing from the frostbitten
Branch: relearning how to sing
is not rocket science, nor life support,
whether art or not art, and of the infinite
Masterworks eight appendages can muster
in the hours of entanglement
when 9–5’s dissolve into the ambiance
Of ambulances, neon, and late-night cafes
become quarantines and safe
houses and purgatories for Johns and Janes,
Janes and Janes, leaning into one another
with their backs to the window wherein
The Great Outdoors goes spell-bound as well
As anechoic, and a figure appears
like a postage stamp
in the upper right hand corner,
And who, if a tree had fallen there,
along the border, would have enveloped
the reverb of each pine cone or acorn
Down to the pin-drop proportions
of what’s seeded inside them
for whom the sap surges,
Nay, fuels, the bold questions and still
bolder answers. In warm corners
they huddle conveniently
Without rings—to slow aging,
she thinks, and is moved
minimally, and falls
Back, but to subtract from the world
the persistent
lack of snow angels.
Adrian's work has been published in The Atlas Review, The Columbia Review, Rufous City Review, Painted Bride Quarterly, Fruita Pulp, TYPO Magazine, and elsewhere. Visit his website: www.adriansilbernagel.com
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