Shadowboxing Andy Warhol
       

Andy Warhol speaks to me in voodoo
lilies, organic crackers, and gingko leaves.

As I undress, I am the hourglass
corset over love, under chandelier music
from the crystal ceiling.

Andy worries that it's raining
celebrities

while I arrange the language
of portraits, the pocketwatch and paper
garter of life. I rip up my mini-
dictionary,

buy us society sunglasses—
Keep your mirrors shiny. Always
let the valet park the car.

Andy tells me not to settle—
we should have assistance when assistance
is available, find our best kiss

for a luxurious life, better
than the satisfactory breakfast
of nothing or none or no one.

Andy speaks to me through soup cans
and mismatched Marilyns:
Be exotic, but don't be grandiose.

I think we are lost

on a series of bridges and I complain
how my life has too many options,
too many roads to choose,

but he hushes me
—don't let your spirit be tangled—

I thought we were adrift,
but we were always on track.

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Copyright © 2014 Kelli Russell Agodon All rights reserved
from Hourglass Museum
White Pine Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission