It Is Possible

Zoe Imani Sharpe

To hear the rapturous rock-star fantasy     
“restless imminence”     and still 
shed leather skin like
some foxgloves float to the floor. 
You’re pretty sure you heard
our disordered star    
refusing? Go to jail? 
Fuck no.            That not-Gehry house 
with a birthday candle stuck in it.
Begin again  
you reach the outer ring  
you trace your fingertip over true power         
that is, to inflict discontinuousness—

Which artwork’s not about death?
and death’s proxy, Springtime,
perennial enclosure?    
What procedure would you enact
lying in your own proliferated          Refuse
to finish any album    even with stacks of money
      it is comical yet          
you set about new conditions
under which two hands can live, two feet, quantum,        
and heaven, like commerce, curiously spatial. 

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ABOUT THE CREATOR

Photo by Sarah Bodri

Zoe Imani Sharpe’s recent writing can be found in YYZ Artists’ Outlet, Writers’ Trust of Canada, and Best Canadian Poetry 2021.

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