by Christina Gubala-Block
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Can you change me?
Not like, not like,
like “d. a.” undergarments
but like Stipe
and Mills, you know,
that therapy version
Flash me in the eye each time I turn into a worm and
bring the lovelight back
Wrench the retching from where it’s entrenched
Or… pry, I guess
(that’s what eyes do, right?)
Solution by light pollution as dilution
Can you hack my glare
A la
Headlights from oncoming traffic
At death-dark 6 PM on New Year’s day
On the 154 pass through to Santa Barbara,
Undular, irregular-regular?
A new unbearable
(though admittedly your sense of mirth takes the edge off)
I know it blinds you to look
to
to lock your look
Or, more precisely (?), freezes you
As the worm, as the snake in me longs,
with phantom limbs,
To touch a finger to your chin,
and coax you back.
“I look Medusa in the mirror daily! Can’t you?
Virile child of glowing liquid gold?”
But being real, being so for real
that doesn’t account for that
I’m senseless
From vibration wounds.
Only one of us isn’t steering off the road
The other one saw the shooting star
We can’t both stargaze at once if we’re gonna make it, huh
In this analogy, at least
Twelve rainbows, linear and globulus
A dozen beams refracted into tones
A hawk whose pray we nearly got to see
Two pairs of otters upturned in their homes
Switch into sonnet mode when god shows up like
putting on your Sunday bests, perhaps today you hear the click
Like Williams, but like, for the soul, you know?
Hoping opening your ears
will usher in warmth this time, and firmly clap the bell
The shiver from within the self,
a feeling feeling felt
(I wrote it and I shit you not,
an earthquake shuddered through
A shiver from without the self;
[-did you feel it?!
-didn’t feel])
Light can come and go from ears; they register no change
Just freedom from the glare
You looked away and, with the portal turned, I saw into you
I heard what you said
I hear what you’re saying
You make a good point.
Remember though (we learned it together)
Don’t put a ringing tuning fork to your temple
I thought, I swear I thought
To disentrench
I thought it’d shine
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Christina Gubala-Block, a.k.a. DJ Lady C, is a record collector & selector in the Highland Park neighborhood of LA. She's hosted many radio shows, including Rare Air on dublab, which has been running for the last decade. When she's not busy dragging 6 hours’ worth of records to 3 hour gigs or scouring the way-back-machine for her LA Record archives (chasing that writerly glory-days high), she's experimenting with poetry and flash fiction.