“Projection” and “Predicting My Death” by Virginia Laurie

I want to grow milky eyed 
and puff pastry with you / 
jade in each eye / leveled 
towards the bed where we 
sleep / those perfect pink 
blossom sheets / We’ll have 
the dark green velvet couch 
of our dreams / vines everywhere /
orchids / and mugs / and cats / 
and mugs of cats / art / in each 
bathroom / Deco / Degas / mint 
ashtrays / ceramic / CDs / an 
interesting tile pattern / incense / 
the fluffiest towels / with a last 
name on them / that will be ours / 
All of it / All of it / All / Ours

I don’t like being on camera,
but I think I could be a movie
star, or a TV host, or some kind
of person with a microphone 
strapped to their chest, so all
day the audio can roll, and there
will be proof everywhere, cast
across every screen and radio,
without static or headache, of
the daily pitter patter: lungs spread
like raindrops across the window
of my throat, saying please, please, please
to something I haven’t heard of yet
(that will save us all) and Yes, it will respond, 
I heard you down there, all day,
every day. You have percussed 
your way to the finish line, and boy,
you sure did it with style. Come inside now, 
we’re done with your part. 

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