Rodney Koeneke

(after Etruria)

Perhaps my name is Knevus, Lars, or Spurio
and that my hard, doll-like body had been taken down
from the little cabinet where I lived, ran under the oil ewer
to wash off the dust and lint bunnies,
and then rolled in the crumbs of lapis and lavender
to make me fierce and beautiful for the leaping.

My only question to you Rodney is:
who puts the polychrome copper dolphin mask
over the head of the bull, and who ties the tassels
to the tips of the Taurokathapsia?

"Those tasseled tips that sit as moonlit sea foam,"
you had said, right before you went back to your carving
of Cicero's head in ghostly iridescent ambergris.

These minor details of the Mise-en-scène seem
to be important when I'm drinking, making Cletra,
comparing Emoji Corna with Napoleon
on my marble Neoclassical Cellphone..

He's always wandering around muttering
about Ozzy, and Mandy, or us.

I still remember the first time I saw you,
and this is extremely true and strange.
You were just finished buying a bottle of wine
at the pasta works, next door
to the famous booksellers...

We're just like Crapsti and Grabouie..
(leaping bull is easy if only you try..)