Rae Armantrout

Conjure


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137Acknowledgments

       conjore

      CONJURE

      How did the synthesis

      cross the abyss?

      In a sentimental story

      there is only one

      of something:

      one newborn,

      one moment, one

      “once,” embalmed

      in myrrh.

      All I want

      is not to be

      first on one side,

      then the other,

      but to conjure

      a stream

      of sounds and images

      for which I am not

      responsible.

      and maneuver within it—

      mouth and tail

      one thought.

      The sea, now full

      of cannibal

      jellies, blue

      if the sky says so

      UNQUOTE

      Take this cup away from me

      with its hints

      of ammonia and dill,

      oak or corrosion.

      Who knows, really?

      What might ammonia taste like

      to a different person?

      Roll that question

      around on your tongue.

      You’ve heard it before

      or something like it.

      The familiar is enormous!

      Red-shifted.

      I’m happy to think

      of this deep sleep—

      “the sleep of the dead”—

      as