Flower-bordered river
where I fillet the hyacinths,

a russian doll of places
posing as one place.

Halogen me
at a horse show in Florida

while another juliennes
olives for appetizers.

A doll slipped in another
till all dolls are dull:

versions of me
with whistles for lips

reciting asterisks
in the periodic table.

Collage of the unconscious:
white flowers, lost teeth,

scarecrow with
an aureole of straw,

basilica for everyone’s
best dresses.

I visit the public
museum of clouds,

lithographs of sky
posing as space.

Layers make monsters
as shows the snapdragon.

Memory, you crooked thing
I do to the page.

Maya Catherine Popa’s work appears or is forthcoming in the Kenyon Review, Field, Poetry London, Oxford Poetry, the Rumpus, the Huffington Post, and elsewhere. She was a Clarendon Scholar at Oxford University from 2011–13 and is currently completing an MFA at NYU. She is the editorial fellow at Poets & Writersmagazine and the literary editor of All Hollow magazine.

Image by Colin Smith