Drafting the Danube
By, Nicole

Drafting the Danube


I will never find mind or peace and quiet dungeons
Inside a space of waves worth riding and fruitless conclusions
Belly-up I’ll lie at the bottom of the bowl, licking lightly to savor the saturated flavor

Fleeing a dream of our family in Paris, the owners of an upside down
American bakery, Where inside twisted doughs and taking naps fill feminine contours of unforgettable, forgotten moments.

Swatted flies in design swim upstream and I cross eyed and free, sink salted
and buttered by tides of torn jeans and pitiful sores.

My Empty hands and mouth and ovens invite daydreams to brown and crust over a distancing green feeling
In which lies armored arousal that we mistook for something worth
Circling the maypole with flames to announce its arrival