by Nicole Burney
I get these urges
to smash everything in sight
and retrieve only the odd bits to create a new species.
I riddle cacao beans, silver Ganesh,
and a turquoise paper clip
gathered up in a mason jar
because they hold certain promises.
I have this dream
in which I plunge into Sirius
eating my way to its core
regardless of the heat.
I blow seeds off a dandelion
because I’m happy to watch them float
searching for a patch of firmament;
I keep a handful
as if they’re tiny mnemonic diodes
tucked inside my medulla
or better yet, the hypothalamus to curb my appetites.
I try to be sensible
but I am tiger-born
I crush bone and birth all manner of heady artifacts;
and if I am sane
it is in lieu of the nuance and clockwork
of an eye or an old Victrola
stripped to essential worth
and away from absolute geometry.