National Poetry Month: Day 21. “Questions for the Quest” by Reb Livingston

By

Questions for the Quest

Zirconza of the Blest Flare wanted her someday sometime soon.

How was she—with those flinty fingers—supposed to feed those slippy fishes?

That was the first question.

Once she danced the chained-dazed corpsies round the castle.

Once girlhood meant stacked firewood.

And somehow she became the Sulphite of Hardness.

I became emotional.

Who does she presume?

She presumes the pleasures of her own edits and decoys.

Once Zirconza of the Blest Flare was beheaded and her hands severed by a wizard who decapitated everyone he loved.

He was full of love and magic and machete.

Once Zirconza lifted and held her head with her severed hands and questioned his commitment.

In awe, maiming and straightening, she became fuel for the memory.

Her head rolled far away onto a golf course and met Robin Williams the Checklist:

Hook (she forgot who she was as a child),

Jumanji (no idea what she just unleashed)

One Hour Photo (unaware of her own creepiness)

How did she—with her glowing, severed head—presume to feed those limp fishes?

No fish would feed from her hot mouth now.

Reb Livingston

Reb Livingston is the author of God Damsel (No Tell Books, 2010) and Your Ten Favorite Words (Coconut Books, 2007), editor of No Tell Motel and co-editor of The Bedside Guide to No Tell Motel anthology series. She lives in Northern Virginia with her husband and son.


Original poetry published by The Rumpus. More from this author →