Sophie Appel

Joan of Arc

I I say it 3 times

I’ve been rushed toward an answer

Stock pot and chicken bones I’ve been crushed and malevolent

Uncaring and washed of the dock stopping stone cold

the people you place are the bed you lay upon

The soup that is made from cognac and cats

5 angels surround the front of my television

so that I can be protected by reality in its image.

Coyotes in the trees designing the direction of the wind came to the door

threw purple flowers against the glass and seed pods against the ground

trouble upstairs music notes pounding and falling downstairs to the piano

each step different notes creating a frenzy drove out the door and into

lighthouses.

Appearing in the leaves the coyote would bring whispers of trouble.

Knives and blows later, court cases and smoke later,

my own car and never coming home later I started

coming home later with everyone I knew.

Filling up the room with as many people as I could fit in one bed and on the floor

Nobody ever knew the difference.

When we slept in piles it would keep away trouble, but sometimes it would bring bugs.

It’s was her last night in town and so she thought she should take

something to remember all the angels by and

the night felt cold even when he told her

“There are places where it’s actually cold, not like Los Angeles.”

Before, it was the kind of thing only happens during certain full moons

And when she would let anyone be nice, anyone compliment her ears

It was dark outside, the houses were big and the streets were big too

Everyone’s doing recon on themselves.

Every mark missed.

Every time I get close I move.

Everyone is here.

Things have really taken a turn from

The myth of the children’s job at parties to 

branches twist up around each other,

vines that cover a chainlink fence, its likeness is the diviner.

She’s set in her divinity as long as she doesn’t focus

which is why she keeps her glasses off,

after some generosity and data collection on his couch

The future is a long way forward and she can see his barreling

toward him through his feet

The more senses gather, the more they were willing to relinquish,

the less suspicious, the more eternal they became

She’s not saying she wants to be happy,

she’s saying she’d prefer to not listen

to the guy who brings whiskey to the bar.

She’s saying as long as she can’t see, she will be warm.

Standing up slowly I wipe the sweat from my cheek

I wipe the tear from my cheek I rinse off in the river

I’m blessed by his hand in holy water from the Hop Louie 2 dollar water bottle

He makes a cross on my chest

When we sit in their apartment eating bread we recite prayer

and with my fingers purple I light 2 candles.

I’m laying onto everyone I know.

Hearing voices revealing she do god’s work

They say she lead them to victory treading forward forth forgetting

The 100 years war

She sees visions hears voices for years before

deciding to follow them and following them she in men’s clothes

expels the English from French territory

with Michael as her first saint

The voice of an angel

a beautiful modest sweet voice testing the peasant girl

Her bravery inspired to bring her back into the hands of god

Everyone’s doing recon on themselves.

Every mark missed.

Every time I get close I move.

Everyone is here. 

The fire is hottest when its flames are blue

This time really I was frightened,

what lives inside him is fierce and biting

Another animal wrapped inside of razor wire

to lash at each word that could be seen in two ways

My brother said I can’t hear because I’m not here at all

When you tear apart what’s around you

the decay begins quicker than you can imagine

Being drawn to decay he puts it all into his mouth

Plays with it, rubs it onto his face and looks to you

It is a lesson in watering seeds

So make

A blessing

Use water 

Fog horns sound out in the bay,

I can hear them from where I sleep

Keep driving north and eventually you won’t have to see,

Governing our own small bodies our spirits of trouble

Caking yourself in dirt beside the river

in mud beside the hot springs return smelling of sulfur to school

build a hole in the sand to bake inside of

Feel yourself falling into the earthquake

When we sing in a chorus under redwoods

at night we burn cedar combatting

When I arrive I will have wrapped in cloth

salt and garlic

wandering in safety in unknown landscapes

protected by these elements shield like they said

I draw herbs from bags made of plastic and jars made of glass

with my fingers and I sprinkle them into jars

and the herbs get stuck underneath my nails

so they appear as though they are caked in dirt

like beside the river

or in the water at night and everyone’s naked

and you’re all looking at the moon

Heaven Tomorrow

In every magnolia tree in New Orleans where

birds hear me telling you

“Fine then I’ll have a baby with someone else “

and they respond “no”

I say

“well, okay, then one day in the sunlight”

Laying naked in our ancient bodies

we will be switching our socks

You’d said my fingers should be made from California poppy

But actually they are California lupine

or Cleveland sage flowers in fact

Then wood

And then when I left I made sure they were made from your eyes

so when I looked at my steering wheel I could see you

And we have to be simultaneous:

Hamlet

Sandwich

Cup from the drive thru

And in the dark

the same place

the same time

the same eyes

the same body

the same sleep in a bed in a hotel in Paris that is at least two centuries old

in the truck near Mendocino

on an airplane to Germany

on a train lost in Brooklyn

I’m going to replace you with a memory of you

that is going to be replaced by you in the future

On a boat, a ferry

like the one that crosses the English Channel

from England to Holland overnight

You’d said

So I won’t get too emotional I’m going to replace my heart

with an apple and bury my heart in the soil

and when I return we can go find your heart and switch it back

and switch our ears

and switch our books

So you’ll point to everything in Los Angeles and tell me what it is

you’ll point to my ribs on the left side

and you’ll say here’s the 405

and you’ll point to my collar bone

and you’ll say here’s the 101

and you’ll point to my thigh

and you’ll say here’s the 90,

I can’t believe you don’t know about the 90,

It's because you’re from the west side.

And because I’m made up of all the roadways in California,

meaning the world

meaning we have switched everything we are

meaning the whole world is inside of you

that means I want you to hold my breath 

Someday the sunrise

someday under a flowering tree

I’ll tell you the story of one day

and mud swallows

and of course you want to kiss a prophet

& oysters & oysters

and Vegas someday