<i><b>Wicked Alice Poetry Journal
wicked alice| summer 2007

Toni Scales
The Collage Artist
for Joseph Cornell
You leafed through bits of paper,
discarded starlets,
fragments of others’ hope.
Blue swan, opaque rhythm,
perpetual dance.
Stroboscopic saints
were numbered, pigeonholed.
A doll was your mother;
trees grew beneath her dress
when she became a flower.
Planets and lace,
a house in your palm. 
The grid across the water:
vast, impassable,
as if rippling were the unity.
The parachute girl
could not land on your heart.
The glass cracked by your own hand,
boxed-in child appropriated,
your dreams the skulls of birds
crying out for cohesion.