The Mannequins at Delphi

by Luke Irwin

Published March 1st, 2013

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Headlights purchase being,

dealing cars by night lengths.

I am transacted across lives

for economies of passengers.

Once I am my daughter,

asleep beneath apple trees.

The snow is apple blossoms,

wandering insouciant into traffic,

her tiny body insouciant in traffic.

Twice I smoke in velvet noise

beneath colossal glowing teeth.

A glass house incubates three augurs.

Their forms are shining white:

Cashmeres feed on porcelain breasts.

Boots ripen on porcelain stalks.

Benedictions lock their hands in praise—

my darlings whisper it beneath their suns—

I hear, in each crinkled inhalation,

“The keenest orchard guards her sleep.”

I cross the city, find my car.

It’s white, shimmered with their lips, and shy.

Then I’m me. The world is roads I buy with light.