Maura Way - Three Poems

Arabesque

There's research to support my
foot in your ass. Overarching
ogivals from Idaho became
the only sky I knew. In these
cases mood became destiny.
In others you know you're
going to make it after all.
Philo T. Farnsworth shaped
life this way. The arc meets
the shank at zero angle. A knit
cap has no nose cone but can
still fly, at least according to
probability theory. At its most
countable, memory is also a
hyperbolic projectile. Image
dissectors animate the object.

---

The Mountain

Once my limbic
dumplings rise,
there's nothing
they can't do     

*crowned and radiant*

I'll wear my union suit
with the gentle trap door

(a wanton, an acorn)

and they'll all come out to meet me when I come.

I'm an American
Songbag.

---

Somniloquy

Awake and walloped, I extol certain
cohorts. I ponder fellows, rebuild the
ancient powdered companions. There
are no answers here, only wax tracks
of our bigging moon. Interpretation
of augurs as only auspicious ends as
inevitably as the queen's gambit.
Don't cry for me, Argentina. I saw
the commercial. I broke my own
record. Joy comes in the morning,
among other things. I try to tarry, even
though there is  the hay to be considered.