In Which Rapunzel Pursues a Talkless Therapy
by Ruth Baumann
The whiskey bottle holds her to the light
& examines the small, displaced stars
withered spit-dull in her eyes, oh yes
you will do.
An easy way to make anything real is to deny
its existence. Rapunzel is ready to fill her head.
Rapunzel is a gemini.
Go ahead says the wind Pick your damn door.
The air has given up demanding first person.
Rapunzel is not a gemini.
What if any given statement was true
in that it only partially lied? She sleeps
next to her body, long-fingered &
headlessly hungry. At the center is always a circle
the circle the other circles encircle the
small hapless pulp of obsession.
Listen: her hands keep tapping
like she believes in secrets.
Listen: she has not mentioned the witch.
About the Author
Ruth Baumann is an MFA student at the University of Memphis, & Poetry Editor of The Pinch. If you want, you can find her publications at https://ruthbaumann.wordpress.com/