Poetry / June 2014 (Issue 24)

Ehi Ehi Sina Sina ca. 2005

by Joshua Burns

after revolving stones by Huang Yong Ping

Bodybuilders eat
in the interview;
sleep driven to the gym;
do not showboat
for cameras or fans;
just sign things;
show their face as long
as you ask without appearing.

Their students, pasty pudding heads,
consult Internet documentaries;
spurn food; close windows.
What stationary takeout!

The brothers of the students
look green and tubercular
as Charlotte Bronte‘s sisters. Are they going
towards the green shores of Nevermore?
Are they horizontal on the green of your
local golf course? Are they off the green
of your soon-to-be domestic green screen?
Is it envy or illness in their color?
Of course it matters.

Loops of the brain revolve,
not a hint of pitter-patter.
The concept that cons us is release,
kept alive for reasons we all know
are not worth admitting.

The letter game we shall play.
Like an Eliot in miniature I will say
T.S. and you will say ut (in order to start).
What category? Everyone loves an animal.
T.S.: Salamander. ut: Rabbit. T.S.: Tiger.
ut: Rhino. T.S.: Orangutan. ut: Narwhal.
T.S.: Leopard. ut: Dragon. T.S.: Needlefish.
ut: Hog. T.S.: Goat. ut: Tarantula. T.S.: Anteater.
ut: Reindeer. T.S.: Ram. ut: Mollusk. T.S.: Killer Whale...

Ahab, ultimate supervisor, grinds deck boards
and other ship parts only the glossary may spit up.
Moby Dick spumes.
Queequeg, Tashtego, and Daggoo knew to the letter.
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