the ballad of clam shell cud

I

clam, 24 yrs old, looking for:

1) mr. runaway, with secret bloodbuzz

2) mr. baby, afraid of brainy daughters

3) mr. city, with lemonworld apartment

4) mr. conversation, starts fake gospel

5) mr. anyone’s, lit-up & little

 

II

clam, inform your celibate phantom:

by one knowing sailor, your

sleeping sea split

by one caring comet, your

red berry pressed

 

clam, inform your pending celibate past:

a weird turn-on is the new black

 

III

how this cemetery golden boy

reel a girlfriend back with

shakespeare’s charming barbarism,

oscillate a girlfriend with

some bigmouth half-joke,

some half-death vicar hand

 

IV

a dancing tree with mistletoe words,

a boa constrictor courtesan,

a boudoir rodeo,

a sun-man with a guitar goodbye

 

V

screw the baby-boy’s mint high!

i want a friday the 13th night,

 

gone between here & kyoto

 

the lullaby cut is just,

in blood-end we trust.

 

VI

clam,

before your lazy heart

needs wishbone contact,

case its tiny

red rendezvous

underwater,

in everything that’s

sleeptalking:

“what?” &

“maybe”

 

VII

like anchor bachelorette ancestors,

i have hidden in submarine sonnets

& the dark oceania hyperballad

 

i will sacrifice the heirloom headphones

& have someone cradle me

in the mouth’s cosmogony,

sun & thunderbolt in unison

 

VIII

gone in the sleep machine,

we bag the night, taste the

window to the extraordinary anything, we—

 

the sullen daredevil & the paper girl

 

o’’sailor sick & pure,

i want your criminal imagination,

your carrion valentine,

your werewolf love

 

i want your first, your every single child

 

 

IX

clam & i &

the fiction of

a women’s century

 

we dress-up in blue dialogue,

we console in a photo of

jonathan & david

freak & apostle love

 

X

pandora’s luck

overfloweth & i’m no

halo-mender

 

no, i’m no

fifty-fold clown

 

pitch the angelhood &

know my truth, bluebeard-baby:

 

i’m a garland of grenades

i wax & wane blood

i’m a pearly-dewdrops bitch

 

Source Material: song titles from The National, The Shins, The Smiths, The Magnetic Fields, The Cure, Architecture in Helsinki, Björk, Fiona Apple, Belle & Sebastian, and Cocteau Twins

 

 

 

 

 

Ariel Clark-SemyckAriel Clark-Semyck is a recent graduate from the University of Notre Dame. She lives in Chicago where she serves as a part-time henchwoman for various places of business. Her poems and reviews have been published in or are forthcoming in Witch Craft Magazine, The Nottingham Review, Third Coast Review, and Re:Visions.