Boona Daroom



Girl with the Padlock


girl with the padlock on her cellular
sighs between exhales and consonants

plight barrels through who knows
what she snots a line sucking

from her world backwards
Alexander Hamilton

two hours from now will be fire
slurred hocks slobbering corrosives

i leave suddenly to hide inside salmon
berry bush blundering like a power line

we lay under such splayed lithe plastic
dreary sentences on Fourteenth Street



Horse’s Grave


Emotionless pines
we've proved stir.

Red August
itching up. No ring

raising cane
when Empty came

almost completely.
Bored with. Bare hearts.



Cornucopian Skull


morning watched a glass shatter
ice in the basement made a turtle

dove into her sheets and she
saw reflected a mother’s face

men tramped snow in and out
shushing everyone was blue

and handsy chicks pulled
up pairs of black socks

blather in the head
soldiers some things

about oil and containers
you shouldn't drink from

how a robot dismantles itself
to see all its thoughts.




Boona Daroom's work has recently appeared in LIT, SOFTBLOW, Monday Night, among other places. He lives in Brooklyn.
 
 
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