Poetry: I Only Shine When I’m Down

A poem (ahem) by Chola C.

Ask all my friends and accomplices if you like;

I’m pretty damn lustrous when I’m devastated,

I’m everywhere at once, at the snap of crooked

fingers, and I say yes to all of the kill orders as

long as they come with an extra side or dip for all

the sushi; I can turn my lungs into air balloons for

a dime or two, and take several plus-1s on wild jaunts

through a Paris or Antwerp I’ve never actually seen;

I can breathe new life into lost causes and zombie

dreams, mystify water into your father’s Cognac,

the exact same we snatched as tadpoles, convinced

we could drink our youth away from inside a bashful

pentagram; I could vomit directions, and lead our sorts

of bastards down rabbit holes, and bear caves, and snake

parlours, where we’ll make smoothies of volatile fruit,

martyrs out of assholes, entire lives of all the deja vu.