Two Poems

by Natalie Lyalin

DRANK A PINE TREE

In a week you can so love someone Take them to the woods Wrap them in a fur cloak Point out tremendous lichen Singe a steak bone Then move into the woods This is an experiment Like a sugared nut that settles the stomach Like how the planets are confused This is why a dull tuft of grass greeted us this morning This is why the doctor saw a sickly robin The world is ending in preparation for a new one The dumbest luxury we invented were cruise ships and drinks of electric colors I am sure of this Like how God is on a mountain On all the mountains at once How he hides from us Because we are terrible to eachother Like how we say, this book is for you And for you, and for you But it is for no one in particular

YOU SHOULD SEE MY WHITE VEST

My dad said it looks like a woven cloud And my mother laughed and laughed Your father is a lamp! Is a table! He is under a curse He is secretly leaving the country and we must intercept him Before he throws paint on the Vatican’s ceiling Before he rips off the Pope’s rings He should see my sloppy garden My hot soup He should see the way I drift in the house Smoke in my ears A sugar cube in my mouth How I poison myself with dove meat He should see my doves Their enormous cages in my house On top of the house A large yellow parrot in my basement He should see my projects My origami fortress My other origami fortress

Natalie Lyalin

Natalie Lyalin is the author of Pink & Hot Pink Habitat (Coconut Books, 2009) and the chapbook, Try A Little Time Travel(Ugly Duckling Presse, 2010). She is a co-editor for Agnes Fox Press. She teaches at the University of the Arts and lives in Philadelphia.