i meet the devil often
he takes me to a red room
at the other end of an axe.
outside i can hear my father measuring
the perimeter of our distance.
in the room a phone rings
& no one is allowed to answer
only i break the rules & i do.
on the other side is a green world
where all your lovers want you
at once. i am a piece of taffy
laid long. stil hot from forging.
a dog without eyes stares at me
from a reflection in the french doors.
when i say "devil" i don't mean
underworld so much as i want to suggest
unbuckling. when i don't wear seatbelt
i feel myself lifting from the vehicle
& out the moon roof's slight smile.
walking towards a ledge like a video game map.
nothing more to step off of. the devil
plays violin yes this much is true.
plucked the strings from a horse
all on his own. he'll ask me
which one of us should start listing
forbidden actions first. i begin saying,
"sleeping without having bartered"
& "eating breakfast before
the birds clutter the telephone wire."
i am a scheme of beautiful damnations.
in hell, flowers grow like
you couldn't imagine. devil & i
trading bow-ties & scars. the room
always ends abrutly. a zoo spills
out of fireplace or dragons nest
in the television. dog again. reflection.
the red room in his mouth. i tell him
i am packing my bags as we speak.