Cover Me With Turtles After Amy Cutler.
Cover Me With Turtles After Amy Cutler 1. Fall into the cracks Where elephant trunks are useful. Where patterns open at the seams, Revealing nakedness. Where to finish is a process of picking fruit. And big, round, yellow orbs fall But don't squish and squirt Because you made them all up. Cheer for the death of the imagination and the moment where reality bleeds enough. Make a sign. Take it down to Wall Street. Make sure all the letters fit on the cardboard. 2. Empty your pockets. Sew a dress for me. Long, blue, elegant-- I will wear a crown and frown in glory. It's not floating heads, but the drooping skins of creatures once upon a time fierce. Charge up a mountain and then call down one last time So that I can see you before it's over and my shame Has eaten up what's left. Is that an instrument for making music? Or do you carry it for style? This world still has plants, and there is no mayor; No one to declare me wrong. 3. Hold your own head in your lap. Place it on the floor and use it as a footstool. Attach my living bust to the front of your Fishing boat and I will drag a net into the sea for you. Sleep next to me. Cover me with turtles. 4. We declared our independence last night in front of a small crowd. Later, we drank, tired, and became sad again. 5. You are ageless in your beginnings: black and white like text, or some perceptions of science. You hug a snowman, but don't show feeling. Not much, anyway. I wish my lines were more intricate; tricky; time consuming. I wish my thoughts could marry yours, but we're working Next to one another and we can't see in. (I'm thankful for this.) Stop reminding me of other things. Just let me stay here in the spaces that create nothing from my memory. Don't make me angry; you pulled my braids. You once drew me sitting on a hill with an expression that seemed thoughtful, but was probably more insecure. I held an inner slice-- You scowled and grasped both ends. Apple head, where're your brain guts? What are those ears for? Oh! how your patterns compliment each other so exquisitely! And you, of course. I'm not the footrest, but something Underneath that. Squid legs incapacitate me. Hold my hand. Sew me into existence when you're done doing you. Anchor me. Plant a redwood Forest in my chest, above my breasts. I will tilt my head back to make room for the trees to grow. You make me laugh when you rub your eyes like that. Floating without water, with a life vest And a raft-- saved before there was any real danger of drowning, like Danielle before the towers fell. Huddle like Forti, only backwards. Can you do it? Score me a river and bundle up until only the top of your head peeks through. Eyes open, but still you wear that expressionless stare. Frumpy face, put your shoes on, you're embarrassing me.
* Inspired by "Amy Cutler: Acquainted" at Leslie Tonkonow Artworks + Projects, September 15-November 5, 2011, as well as by the artist's monograph Amy Cutler: Turtle Fur (published by Hatje Cantz Verlag, 2011).