I.
You,
room deodorizer,
coy in your Trade Secret³ veil
 
sit idly on countertop
hang on bathroom wall
burn in plug-in
 
mask that which reminds we are
animal, after all
 
II.
The I inhales,
becomes the
 
sudden:
mood change (luge run into depression)
puffy tongue
foggy no-track mind (everyday chemo brain)
 
Your noxious mask
penetrates bloodstream,
brain stream,
mind stream
 
III.
Flat blur—
underneath, a desire to lash outmaul
can’t trust
 
the sudden
 words collide on thick tongue
thoughts a senseless
ballooning in wind
 
 
You,
deodorizer,
you,
 
I
you

© Christine Weeber, 2009

Notes
² Similar to a cyborg but a human who is controlled by chemicals. Cyborg being “a human whose body has been taken over in whole or in part by electromechanical devices.” (http://www.thefreedictionary.com/machine).
³ Trade Secret Laws in the U.S. protect the right of manufacturers to not disclose all the ingredients in their products. For example, up to 50 different chemicals might be in a synthetic fragrance, but a manufacturer can simply list fragrance as one ingredient in the product.

Christine Weeber’s poems are often word snapshots of specific places and moments—bearing witness, showing love, seeing carefully, working out the human world within the context of the natural world. Her first poetry chapbook, Sastrugi, is now available for purchase on a sliding scale ($6-$10). The collection speaks to living at 9,000 feet in the Rocky Mountains, as well as dealing with environmental illness and her mom’s journey through cancer. Please email her if you are interested: [email protected].

Christine has served as poet-in-residence at the Gilpin County Public Library, won the Great Lakes Story contest for her piece Breaking Skin, and published her essay “An Unladylike Journey” in the popular anthology Solo: On Her Own Adventure. Christine has an MA in cultural anthropology, a graduate certificate in women’s studies, and a BA in literature and philosophy. See her website for more info: christineweeber.net.