HMS Pinafore, Magnolia and Graves Disease
by Belinda Subraman
Below the border
between the legs
center stage
under the GOBO moon
a ship’s illusion sits
held together by bolts
wing nuts, pins and ties
blinking in and out
on a quantum level with
the actors pretending
emotions as real
as the theatrical sea.
With Graves the brain
has two speeds.
Either the thoughts are too many
and fragmented to gather
or so slow they fall off a ledge
before arriving.
I need a medium brain,
a workable hard hat
mystical noodle,
a world saved by raining frogs,
touched by an angel
or whatever it takes
to change the tides
as surely something does
from time to time.