THE TOWER
Changes in depth
change the color
of the surface. I learned this
on a boat on which a fisherman
caught a tuna, spilled
the offal off deck
I expected fish blood
to look like dark water
I was surprised by its vibrancy
It doesn’t matter that I know
it is coming
if I don’t know what it is
IN CONFLICT
between lies and their opposite I’m seeming
the hard line of what I have to say/what I’d rather
not ask
good. Good cardinal keeps my cause (course I have cause)
as ceaseless need
that good neglect
Through the morning, incoming, likely as sleet
the signs though sparse, the tested, the words
one day I will have lived a good life
their mere shaved shape, their redness, the bird
I pucker a face and buy a boat
to encounter a place that encompasses
enough. In the long farmhouse
there’s a tray in the kitchen and I am concise
and served there
Good cardinal keep me to these grounds
HIGHLY SKEPTICAL
Called to be useful, hailed in service of, I've been wizened up, taught to butterfly
a chicken, slice a notch in white cartilage, press the base of my palm til
My hand pretty with the ribcage, and tasteful—My possessor, working memory
hostile to territory, I'm here, I'm rushing to the runoff
Embroidering a fox in the dark onto a polyester apron, legs under-bundled
kicking into the open air, catching fabric
The apron's a gift, an aleatory game, tossed across the bar in exchange for a secret
wouldn't you like it, a warmly lit act of contrition
And how do you figure, bending at the waist to encounter my detritus on the floor
golden-capped q-tips, take-out containers molded over
What comes next must be multiple, the path and myself just beyond it, maybe
an enclosure, maybe the thing enclosed in it
Biographical Statement
Orion Allen is a poet and immigration paralegal living in Brooklyn. Their poems are featured or forthcoming in Bennington Review, Ninth Letter, DIAGRAM, and elsewhere. You can read more of their work at orionallen.com.