FIRE INTENTIONS

Margo LaPierre




i. establish associative architecture

cat’s eye
dug pit
split work
brothers raining down
chaotic fighter
in the kitchen flickers
an ego substitute
backyard family melting
wizard stuff
spine made of tea lights
petrol beats mezcal
taking down Alexandria
contact word blood sport
zero shame in trying
tall, grand nature
pink glass fluff
books on books
combustible
cadavers
cover it
or risk
your
ash

ii. light candles when lonesome

more credible source than halogen metal reflects & throws organic gasps of orange on my clean skin there’s a couch and cat the-size-of-a-sack-o-potatoes to pillow the front door’s death drive with Cole Porter butter tendril dips, the wax, almost touching good stay good thoughts eager as Edison stay good side a skips good stay good belly and good mouth on hold

iii. research ideal temperature of cheeses

people pile up in my mind and if gratitude is a vending machine without clattery hole to dispense what use is gratitude?
to s———, who microwaved Swiss on sesame bagels your brain is Yoko’s interactive exhibit the threads taut and lagging crocheted nailed to the wall comforting, surprising and outstretched all at once with precious stones and hidden notes
to m———, who baked brie with demerara and liquor you vibrate the wool of your needles you are a maker your voice is a mug brimmed with tears you are the warm anticipated air of holidays booked from an abundance of duvets
to b———, who roasted cheddar cubes at the fire pit in my parents’ backyard, you are a novel of internal logic, a well-worn and brambled terrain of love
to j———, who delighted over blueberry goat cheese cream rotini and decided blueberry goat cheese was a thing I think of your hands first the knuckles now red from knowledge of the jungle your arms and their scars and I see you under a mountain destiny splitting apart your big love bigger than time big enough to hear my echo, a razed forest, my glossy green beginning

iv. unplug all beauty implements

gatekeepers call it hot girl summer and we hang our bellies over silk knotted belts bruise lips for beauty ruses and usher each other in from remote towns hold ego infections in empty matchboxes for emotional warfare and they tell her she’s lit

v. set the green tomato chakra aglow

gas elements installed on car hoods for import black-box master chef events held under the highway’s cement crusting off exposing steel guts hold on for mortal life in a middle-of-nowhere force-field traffic jam judges say their piece then hovercraft home to Supreme teenagers

vi. write more onion structures

yearly life gets seared into the inhabitants while their alien mothers await carbon breakdown, sifting through memory boxes of Australopithecus who discovered sunshine and rambled about it to skeptic stonebros

vii. radiate poems

in this mad heat let’s go swimming on the way back sing dripping with the voices of friends’ children verbally tick off lists slitting kissed tests to survive ceviche and Listerine combos breath and bodies comprise wonderful wavy brine particles




Margo LaPierre (www.margolapierreeditor.com) is a queer, neurodivergent Canadian poet and fiction editor. Her debut collection of poetry, Washing Off the Raccoon Eyes, was published by Guernica Editions. She is a poetry selector for Bywords Magazine and Membership Chair of the Editors Canada Ottawa-Gatineau branch.