garden of tricks

where’s your bitter girl?
the princess of absinthe you swallow
to dream in animal colors:
without her, are you there?
her licorice whip of hair,
snapping red vessels alive
in your chest: cold, white brother,
without her, are you there?
if she fell from that terrace,
her green spilled over stone,
her flavor dispersed in all that air,
--brother, are you there?
did you lure her with a sugar cube,
your night without its mare--
basil, mint and bitter dreams,
my brother, were you there?

adriana erickson