Author Archives: Krysia Jopek

DIRGE II. the afterlife smells like ghosts [2 dancers]

Everyone slows down and locks the rearview mirror when the ambulance arrives. Demise crosshatches the body’s sleeves. How funny I look without skin. Lacking the memory of other cells, the cell is lonely. Inconsolable, the violas slip the page. A … Continue reading

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DIRGE 7: ablation [1 dancer]

I cut my heart out with a kitchen knife And threw it in the sea at high tide because it no longer served me. I built a boat from gnarled driftwood to look for it– but it was plunged in … Continue reading

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from DIRGE: a ballet for 13 dancers [fragment- hymns]

The planes flew through your chest at high speed because someone called you sky, and you wanted to believe. Ghost planes with no one onboard except robots counting dollhouse packages—or elegant military birds. No one had the heart to tell … Continue reading

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from DIRGE [amplifications]

The composition ruptures, slips. We staple, glue, and sew, so there is teetering. Parts of the brain won’t cooperate. The subject of the story will say no. Mourning doves need more time. Talk wanted to talk about itself. Lilacs became … Continue reading

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DIRGE: a ballet for 13 dancers [prelude with cellos]

1 dancer [hazel] I slept in the Book of the Dead and woke with parchment scrolls blooming tired magnolias from my unhinged mouth. Lugubrious cellos attempted to climb me back to the mud-encrusted, brick floor–but I panicked. When my thinking … Continue reading

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TANGERINE SYMPHONY

Monday shuffled the rain’s pages, soggy and spent. Tuesday threw a lifeline to resurrect dreaming. After this many days of torrential rain and thunderstorm— the sun’s image fits in a miniature dollhouse’s tiny white frame. The velvet masquerade would still … Continue reading

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THE FEATHERS OF WINGS DESIRE THUMBRINTS

Distance throws points pointing to the Subject [of Yellow Feathers]. Lost in the sun—a rogue magician feeds finches from a torn sleeve. This is where the owl lives at night with baby bats after the crickets and tree frogs’ duet … Continue reading

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[THE AFTERLIFE SMELLS LIKE GHOSTS]

I opened the metaphysical with a can opener. [The puzzle, magical.] I don’t want to spoil. [Delay denied the last dandelions.] I wrote 87 emails but couldn’t hit SEND. [Events took place in brackets.] I felt your face with feathers. … Continue reading

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CONFESSIONS

I wanted to go there but I can’t remember—to be with someone lost in the field of wildflowers—that disappeared when I touched a memory that confused the horizon. The address of the doctor who promised not to cure me but … Continue reading

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THE DARK PROLIFERATES EVERYTHING

Let’s not get into this now—this driverless car that could easily crash that neither of us can afford, this city taxi cab (that will drive too fast near the bicycle lane)—or step into this afternoon of apple-green light, prescient of … Continue reading

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