Excerpt: Laura Madeline Wiseman

From Sprung

My Imaginary Cock Dresses for Halloween
            Holy the cocks of the grandfathers of Kansas!
                ~Allen Ginsberg

My imaginary cock mans the bedroom closet.
My cock pitches costumes: a Renaissance frock,
a wand capped with a star, a fairy princess skirt,
a witch’s conical hat and bodice laced in webs.
I’ll find the perfect thing for us,my cock says.

I sit criss-cross on the feather mattress and toy
with a satin garter and thigh-high seamed tights.
I catch a ruby slipper lobbed from the hope chest.
I could be Dorothy, I say and tug from the pile
a blue jumper with a blouse snug at the neck.

My imaginary cock says, No, you can’t. 
We’ve got to match and I’m going as a weapon.
From a crate I yank out a coiffed auburn do.
Please, I beg. I scamper to the make-up trove
and return with fire engine red lipstick.

My cock says, Absolutely not. I can’t be 
a bayonet in the Emerald City. Nor can I be 
a cannon on the yellow brick road. How can I be
a handgun in Oz? My cock emerges girdled
in crinoline, cowboy boots, and a mustache.

I open the armoire for a pair of bobby socks.
Listen, I say, It will be fun. I assemble
my Halloween garb on the comforter.
I hum the 1939 film’s classic theme song.
I’ll be from Kansas and you can be Toto.

First appeared in Eating Her Wedding Dress: A Collection of Clothing Poems. Ellen Foos, Vasiliki Kasarou, and Ruth O’Toole, Eds. New Jersey: Ragged Sky Press, 2009. 

Real Toads, Real Gardens

My imaginary cock and I walk the dog.
It’s nice, sixties. We argue over the garden.
My cock insists on peas. I don’t like peas.

I offer onions, green beans, and bell peppers.
My cock demands squash, but I prefer
to carve pumpkins in queer faces.

Then it’s zucchini, which tastes awful.
Herbs, I say, I’ll plant lots of fresh herbs.
Radishes, my cock counters, asparagus.

I throw my cock a bone and agree to potatoes.
My cock ignores me, points out the tight maple buds
the green solitary fingers of daffodils.

Soon, my cock says, all this will be ours.
Then my cock gestures wildly at an oak
with suburbia creatures I can’t see.

Pay attention, my cock chastises.
I look anywhere but at my cock.
I study power lines, the slate of humid sky.

I admit I feel like a slave, a nitwit to a god.
I press my mouth in a line, squish acorn hats
as my cock dribbles on about conquering the world.
First published in The DuPage Valley Review, 2008.

My Imaginary Cock Goes on Crusade

My imaginary cock packs a wool hood and hose, a tunic,
linen breeches, a surcoat, and a battle axe in a carry on.

I throw a gauntlet on the bed and say, The crusades are over.
My cock blanches, But I need to make a name for myself.

In the closet my cock magically finds a lance, plate armor,
and chain mail. Onto the bed pile more and more knight gear:

a joust, jerkins, even a saddle for an Arabian fighting horse.
You can’t stop me, my cock says, I bought tickets to England.

Into an army duffle go public library books: Idylls of the Kings, 
The Mists of Avalon, and Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy. 

I sigh. The shrink told me last week to, go along with it. 
So, into a knapsack: cheese curls, jerky, and mixed nuts.

The website notes no delays. The taxi promises five minutes.
Bring me back a souvenir, I whisper and kiss my cock

atop the head. I offer a red silk favor to remember me by.
My imaginary cock blushes, throbs, and begins to weep.

I decide then and there, between the wet-spots of tears
and the padded and jeweled codpiece, to let my cock go.

First published in Sojourn: A Journal of the Arts, Vol. 22, 2009.

Laura Madeline Wiseman has a doctorate from the University of Nebraska-Lincoln where she teaches English. She is the author of six collections of poetry including the full-length book, Sprung (San Francisco Bay Press, 2012) and the chapbooks Farm Hands (Gold Quoin Press, 2012) and She who Loves Her Father (Dancing Girl Press, 2012). She is also the editor of the forthcoming anthology Women Write Resistance: Poets Resist Gender Violence (Blue Light Press, 2013). Her poetry has appeared in Margie, Feminist Studies, Poet Lore, Cream City Review, Pebble Lake Review, The Sow’s Ear Poetry Review, and elsewhere. Her prose has appeared in Arts & Letters, Spittoon, Blackbird, American Short Fiction, 13th Moon, and elsewhere. Her reviews have appeared in Prairie Schooner, Valparaiso Poetry Review, 42Opus, and elsewhere.

Sprung is available now at Amazon.

One Response to “Excerpt: Laura Madeline Wiseman”
Check out what others are saying...
  1. […] I wrote two failed poems and then I wrote the poem “Real Gardens, Real Toads” in the fall of 2007. It wasn’t until the gardening poem that the character my imaginary cock […]

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s


Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 1,715 other followers

%d bloggers like this: