No Bulls in the China Cabinet by Charlotte Seley


I don’t believe in damaged goods.
When I hear echoing hooves I change
my locks and shift my space.

A massive monstrosity, a wooden chest
of delicates where all the sparkle lives,
I am pinkies out and parasols so save me
for watercress sandwiches and the like.

27 men in tasseled tops
waving muletas live inside
and you are double the bulls
seeing red in a cabinet full
with neat rows of china.

Think flying cutlery, jaws of life,
the moon’s drunk face as cracks
in the windshield spread like liquid.

You know what they say:
Grab the bull by the horns.

You know what they say:
Mess with the bull, get the horns.

You know what I say:
I’m made of matadors and breakables,
swords and sequins, antagonizing reproach.

previously published at interrupture


Published by

Jeremiah Walton

Oi ! I’m Jeremiah Walton. For the past ~3 years I’ve been bopping around the U.S. between hitchhiking + rubber tramping, running traveling bookstore Books & Shovels + indie publisher Nostrovia! Press. My focus is in-person distribution at open mics + features + busking. Word of mouth is a fulfilling & feels to be a more intimate promotional process. I’ve featured at the NYC Poetry Festival + San Francisco Lit Crawl + Snoetry Cleveland + Beast Crawl Oakland + This Lil Lit Fest + street corners across the country. There’s a handful of my books floating around the country, but most recently is “From Here Til Utopia” (Ghost City Press). Raccoons + coyotes are my companions. Hope you dig the poems, much love, thank you❤

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