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Meet Cute Metamorphoses

Amber Ridenour Walker

Eros got drunk

and lost his pants


when he met Psyche

at a bar, counting


her bingo chips.

she leads him through the alleys


to the center

of the labyrinth


the night a Pyrex bowl

with cracks for stars


she claps her hands three times

but doesn’t break the spell


the stars are 99% performance

and the rest is myth


*


she notices his eyelashes

in the snow


when she hits him

in the head


with a softball

like an arrow in reverse


he says, It’s just

my head


I never needed it

for this


Psyche plays the keyboard

while he dances in pajamas


in his apartment

limbs unfold like wings


they order sushi

with the names of flowers


cherry blossoms

fizzle in their mouths


his pajamas fall

and become deer


nuzzling green-stubbled trees,

a sudden bright red


blossom

breaking ice.


*


She says, If I fall in love with Love

I could never take myself seriously


what is Psyche without desire

sharpening her arrows?


he says, If I was your boyfriend

I would kill myself


he keeps her kiss inside a napkin

in his wallet


he hates her lovers but he always

lets her in


Eros, without a soul

is just bad poetry


*


Eros has a mark

made by a sizzle-drop of oil


the jealous birds will hate him

for his beauty


they will want to peck his wings

and steal his songs


Psyche strokes piano keys

to charm the angry aviary


she’s not trying to steal anything

(except, perhaps, her soul)


*


In her hand,

she can hold a key


pull straight a tie

zip up his jacket


touch the mark

that mars his symmetry


she can march

into his dreams


where they duel with glass bottles

in a hotel lobby


he says, you’re the biggest part

of my problem


she takes her key

and leads him


through the door

into the garden


then awake


*


Inside the theatre,

they lift plastic glasses


in French, he says

he is the man of cheese


in French, she asks

did he mean to say of wine?


in English, his mother (jealous,

as in all the tales) says he is an idiot


their laughter splashes the walls

the theatre blushes burgundy


the curtain falls

the birds write bad reviews


& every human heart

is a lonesome corkscrew




Amber Ridenour Walker is the author of Surfacing (Free Lines Press) and i thought this would be cooler (Bottlecap Press). Her poetry and prose have appeared in such places as Local Smoke, The Portland Review, 580 Split, Bombay Gin, Leon Literary Review, and Tiny Spoon. She holds an MFA from the Jack Kerouac School of Disembodied Poetics and moonlights as a librarian.

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