Lady Vertigo, or Madeleine of the Salt Caves

Courtesy:  Vivian Hua

Courtesy: Vivian Hua


It’s pretty steep, you say,
but hold nothing against me.
Mobilized by the blue movie,
longing pools around our ankles,
traps us like anything in amber.
The next natural step
calls for a locksmith.
Will I ever walk again?

Out again, I prepare my spell
and then call a cab instead.
Love is ever the green light,
and not what obeys.
After unbuttoning, I will walk
to a place in my apartment
you have never seen
and find, to my surprise, a lump of salt.


We are always the angel we wait for.
To live without an image is immense, but average.
I want to make this automatic:
I flood with rose the minute you walk in,
and then I really need a drink.
This is love in a mist.
I dream about swallowing stones.


On this Day of the Dead,
I wear a sweatshirt that reads,
“Be Always One”.
Stealing away before your eyes
(and before your eyes,
you were nothing),
adoration goes unregulated.
That’s the only way it’ll stay.

My pure synth sylphide,
wearing bad light like a stole—
you are envy’s last hour.
You come to me as vertigo,
you come to me as backstory.
The past is a fugitive, and
always free.