Reliquary
occurrence of the day
in veils, whir
of the hospital
laundry mat. Whirring.
Dandelion wine
bitter with pearls.
Ball bearings, wood,
ball bearings. A meal,
intestinal clockwork,
circle of the radio dial
ending, twice. Noon’s
pitchforks. Garlic
hoof. Coins, on a table,
an unworn lorgnette. Initials
carved into the wood
of wood. Unaltered
in the colander, eggs.
Rain drops transmitted
via piano wire do
telephone poles.
Nostril, bone hole,
as in birds. Blood
worms. Incommunicado:
light bulb and black marker
minuscule, public restroom.
For the wicked. Martens,
scattering. Abandoned
cars, wraiths. Assemblies
of shadows, cordillera.
If categorized, all
gradations of black–
Milk of magnesia.
Streetlight, caterwaul,
aliyah of chimeras.
Paramour’s first regret,
blade of departure. Ice,
leaf vein, meandering, flame,
acetylene shakes. Coats,
moth-lined and great. Bouillon
cubes in a box. Suicides,
wind chimes’ stories. Steeped
tea. Rosewood, bergamot,
yang-yin, daddylonglegs.
From silver samovars,
caviar. Fish skulls, eggshells,
coffee grounds, rinds,
in the garden, planted nails.
Compact
She wore her lipstick like an off-centered kiss. She wore her lipstick like a misplaced LOVE stamp. She wore her lipstick like a bird would its newly sharpened beak. She wore her lipstick like pancake syrup (Mrs. Butterworth’s). She wore her lipstick like curdled wine. She wore her lipstick with an aftertaste of his collar’s starch. She wore her lipstick as a blue sunset tipped over inkwell. She wore her lipstick as a dual rash/blemish. She wore her lipstick as rose petals dried in the leaves of a dictionary. She wore her lipstick like a recently sucked tootsie pop (shooting injun on the wrapper). She wore her lipstick as she did the slight wax of his inner ear. She wore her lipstick like fresh gummy worms. She wore her lipstick in velvet theater curtains barely parted. She wore her lipstick as the night percolates glue. She wore her lipstick with a tinge of cinnamon burnt toothpicks. She wore her lipstick like duck’s blood soup. She wore her lipstick as a handless watch of her oral desire. With her lipstick she wore baubles of invisible spittle. She wore her lipstick like a man kisses a mirror. She wore her lipstick as the bridle of her lover’s finger. She wore her lipstick like a jack-o-lantern never could. She wore her lipstick as newly birthed starfish. She wore her lipstick like a tongue she couldn’t hide. She wore her lipstick like a thorn in a tango dancer’s shoe. She wore her lipstick like marbles in a blender. She wore her lipstick as crimsoned autumn leaflets. She wore her lipstick a tightly tied shoelace the hue of cut-off circulation. She wore her lipstick in a mood of overripe fruit. She wore her lipstick as a foot does its habitual nudity. She wore her lipstick a malted’s striped straw. She wore her lipstick as one would her fleshy rood. She wore her lipstick as a valentine for whom. She wore her lipstick as much as her lipstick wore her. She wore her lipstick as cigarette butt return addresses. She wore her lipstick as a mouthflower, a lovesmudge, genital peppermint. She wore her lipstick stuck like candy apple goo. She wore her lipstick in two shades of lip. She wore her lipstick like asses awkwardly smooch chairs. She wore her lipstick like raspberries kept in a change pocket.
Recent work by Philip Kobylarz appears or will appear in Connecticut Review, Basalt, Santa Fe Literary Review, New American Writing, Poetry Salzburg Review and has appeared in Best American Poetry. His book, Rues, was recently published by Blue Light Press of San Francisco.