<i><b>Wicked Alice Poetry Journal
wicked alice| winter 2009

Nissa Lee


The Rule of Three
and other issues of multiplicity

I've had it with a girl that
loves me at her own convenience
until she finds the bed of a
blind man
so that when she opens her legs,
he can't see the scales
tattooed on her skin.

She has too many faces.
I'm sure you've dealt with her kind—
new heads that grow from
necks severed seconds ago.
She primps and preens,
prepares those faces for the
faces she will meet
and later be.
And these faces don't always
with the things that they hear—
one mouth
tearing another's ear
and promptly licking the wound

And I hate to admit it,
but in her eyes there reflects
three versions of me
all trapped within the
black glass beneath her lids.
They are wringing their hands
but they are drowning in the depths
of what we want to achieve.

Alta, Alta, what do we do?
None of me are willing to sneak into her
to take care of heavy housekeeping—
untying heads strung
            from stalactites,
            covering mirrors
            with the cloaks
            off our backs;

            we have mined new caves
            for her to snore her serpent dreams
            beneath fresh water springs—

No, we have tried,
            we have tried…
And now we are more compelled
to drag her into the sun.

I want to,
we want to
            make her
And we want to
            blind her
            with the weight
            of our pens.
We want to
            choke her
            with the letters of your
            printing press