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Disassociation
Gawaine Caldwater Ross

Some people dash through fire,
others plunge through ice.
Is Reality the only thing
when Chaos is the King?
Ring all your golden Christmas bells,
the sewer rats still dance:
Then the ice they buy and sell 
will wind up in your drinking glass.
All muddied and black,
that iridescent toxicity
in which the ship is lost.
The mutineers choose weapons
and toss the captain overboard
to feed her to the sharks
by the reefs of broken glass -
each mirrored fragment seizes night light
and casts werelit visions
of her home bleeding, collapsing
as the boulders fall dead center.
(She goes into her heart and mind
which reminds her) of departing kin
who told her of the doom that wheezes
down the orchard's razor walks.
?	Too cold? - We'll leave this
television frame behind
to go and seek the whip instead.

The radio commander never stops:
Hilarity dances with dank despair,
mudslides block the view.
She seeks a serpent that doesn't bite
and settles for a badger's den
with herself as Cinderella, Joan of Arc,
the Virgin Mary, or a
vulture squawking over food.
The radio commander orders her
to yell in a crowded subway train:
“Rubber plantation workers beat seedless grapes!
Venus is being invaded by dogs!”

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