LIES/ISLE PRESENTS: Morning by Lara Mimosa Montes

Posted by @ 9:00 am on June 3rd, 2013
In the morning she ties her robe
so now the morning is
a mélange of peachy pinks to me
If this mélange could only be poured into her demitasse

                    all your peach-noir-pink
                pouring it into me

If it’s dark enough

                    dream time dawn colored enough


Yes, looking at you now is like waking up from the dream
with the bottle of crème de menthe still in my hand


But a bad morning is a bitter morning
in your mouth is the taste of chickory to me


If before you go
would you wake up again?
Wake up like a Will Cotton
framed in gold, yawning
                    but when I call you a Will Cotton
          try not to open your mouth please



When I call you a Will Cotton
I am telling you that in the morning
around half-past ten
you look like a 17th century Dutch still-life to me


with your peach languor perversely
idling without end
or if at the end


you and your eggs Florentine
or if at the end
only a bunch of silly papers


. . . . and the glass of orange juice next to the eggs Florentine . . . .
If you are a white elephant, they say, then you are actually naturally pink
. . . . . . . . . But if you are a glass rinsed with bitters, then filled with gin . . .

Will Cotton, Cotton Candy Sky (2006)

Will Cotton, Cotton Candy Sky (2006)