More Real Than Real

 

 

I watched a woman give birth

last night, I watched

the finger-thin arms flail

like Beethoven conducting himself

as he sang a John Cage oratorio

to the accompaniment of medical

apparatus and the woman’s screams.

I watched two white-gloved

hands lift him out

of a flowing spring of blood,

sweat and shit, wipe him

and expose him finally to light,

reveal him finally in light.

*

I watched a man plot the murder

of his wife while at the same time

another man became ridiculously wealthy

because he knew Rasputin was head

over heels in love with Alexandra

and though he was filled with bullet holes

he actually drowned. Then a field of white

daisies bobbed their heads together

like a tangle of mourners

at a funeral – each flower identical

to the next, a million imitations

of one forgotten original.

*

Somewhere outside my window

in the darkness that squeezes

between a lighted gas station

and the flickering fluorescent sign

of a 24 hour donut shop,

there was the sound of a muted trombone

trying to make sense of itself,

probably a car radio or the soundtrack

of an old film someone was watching.

It sang me to sleep and I dreamed

the salty taste of a new mother’s tears.

*

About the Author

Aaron Angello is an editor for Two Hawks. Find out more in Meet the Editors.