A dead CEO admonishes me to do
what I love, which he can’t see me
doing. I need only a clean place to lie
around, to see a few decent things.
You’re lucky if you have half
of that, but which half. Also look
up to see everything has gone
a shade of purple which should
only last a few minutes but goes
on for an hour because of the clouds.
And why is that, an equinox
or its afterbirth staining everything
some of the other words there are
for purple. Go find them for me
and keep maybe one for yourself,
give them to me and invent more
and I will acquire them, hand over
the ones you were making and I will
tell the world I invented them. They are
mine (Lilac™, Violet™) and I will kill
you to impress upon you that I can.
Mark Bibbins teaches at The New School and Columbia. His books are The Dance of No Hard Feelings (Copper Canyon, 2009) and the Lambda Award-winning Sky Lounge. He is poetry editor of The Awl.