if a one-legged Murano glass clown
reheated baked Alaska
with a makeshift blow torch
during the ballet
at the Chinese Laundromat
where the shorthair chanteuse
rinses her roasted
cloth diapers in lentil soup
avant-garde in mini toilet bowls
observers of profound miracles
like the deep sleep of gold foiled
butter lining the slippers of pet
Black Widows.
Don’t stick your hand in dark places.
Priscilla Lee