The Lesson. +3 more, by Vasiliki Albedo

It’s an August evening in the garden  / and I’m reading about nyctinasty,  / why some flowers close their petals  / for the night, when the lantern I nailed  / in place this afternoon starts to tremble  / / in an irreverent breeze, and I remember  / years ago, waiting for the bus to school,  / when a rusty nail jutting out  / of a discarded plank, caught my eye.  / I don’t know what impelled me then  / / to stab my foot on it, hard as I could. 

Image forged in blood and data by Cory In The Abyss

He’s not really my uncle.
Mum’s sister’s husband’s brother,
every five Christmases,
every other summer
kind of uncle.

Pulling through the storm’s tail,
after long days of rain,
soft, sudden squalls,
breaths of clarity, calm,
in a medium of mud, water, and air.
Underfoot, flurries of wet brown leaves
tramped down into cleat-stamped sludge,
the gloss of melted chocolate on our boots.
Huff, marching forward, upward in silence.

In the skillet,
searing and spitting,
my dreams darken
and shrivel.

And why not?
The only free food
is in bear traps.
Besides, they spoil fast.

I.

NSA, CIA, KGB, MI5…

                     it’s so good to know

I'm not paranoid.



II.

Sunset...the red glow

                      of the steel mills

east of Chicago.

There is a performance piece in which, at one point, I sit in my underwear removing Curious George bandages from my body. Under each bandage there is a small black pill. When I remove the bandages the pills remain stuck to my skin due to pressure and perspiration. Periodically I pluck a pill off and begin rolling it between my fingers. I repeat this action a number of times until my hands are stained black. The pills are medication for anxiety. An acquaintance of mine watched documentation of this piece and wondered what the hell I was doing. Initially, to her, it looked like I was pulling moles off of my body. She pointed out, with some sensitivity, and in a tone of confidentiality, that I have quite a few moles on my body.

I have been advised to limit my exposure to the sun, and to keep track of my moles, to take note of any change in their size, or shape. I find keeping track of moles a disconcerting activity. They always seem to be changing size and shape. Some are located in places that are difficult to see, and I do have a lot of moles. It makes me nervous to monitor myself in this way. I find it easier to monitor others.