Disappointed in the mansion with all
its thrills—library, jacuzzi, firepit,
and pool, you attempt escape by way of secret
never-ending tunnels, but you’re lost in the maze.
Emancipated from wealth and fame, you grow
neither thin nor pale. The paparazzi grows
gaunt waiting at the front gate. Your steps are
uninterrupted in this game of hide and seek.
Your fans haunt every mirror and light fixture.
Every floorboard creaks like a thousand
nighttime stalkers hunting for a photo-op.
Prompt but Undereducated
Prompt but undereducated, you hold
recipes and a cup of chamomile tea
in one hand and dark lipstick in the other—
never meant for lush lips—that dark. The hidden
cockles of your heart are shocking red/black.
Every other color fades, but not this lasting
satin finish with its sweet flavor and sweeter
stories of long lost lovers who flake, but never
cave to the pressure of your chipped teeth
against such delicate skin. You arrive
royal and clean, but they’ve noted the flaw
only hidden by your bangs. You can’t
love anyone, except the one that matters,
you. So sip the tea, cook the risotto,
number the hours and days alone.
Cat Dixon is a Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net nominee. She is the author of Eva and Too Heavy to Carry (Stephen F. Austin University Press, 2016, 2014) and the chapbook Table for Two (Poet’s Haven, 2019). Her recent work was published in Sledgehammer Lit and Whale Road Review, and she is a poetry editor at The Good Life Review. Find her on Twitter @DixonCat.
One thought on “Two Poems by Cat Dixon”
Wonderfully sharp ironic tone to both of these. The first takes an altogether imaginative leap over this familiar material, with the escape route making it fresh. The second is hair-raising, sad-funny. In both cases, the images are strong and have an edge. Cat Dixon is a real storyteller.
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