At the Vent Haven Ventriloquist
Museum; Fort Mitchell, Kentucky
Your gasp careens as hundreds of
goggle eyes & frankfurter lips lure
you into this side of toon. Gawking
from schoolmarm rows for a lap & a
hand to revive them, they seem
anxious & awkward. Still they
teleport a nattering rustle of prickly
jests that circle the wagon of your
solar plexus. This odditorium, this
maverick mix of culture
detritus—painted make-up flaking,
leather skin sagging, repairs
improvised & raw. They listen as
they fetishize us—slashes of eye
shadow, caterpillar brows, boobs that
surprise in their shifting. So many
heroes that lived useful lives, eyes
sunburst mandalas.
Drop Jaw
speak double
. ton
. gues : vent
riloquist’s con
. versation
be
. gin
. martini
trick: i mmmmm
no
. dum
. my
. jaw
. line
lies
: lala la
. by
rinth
. you
. r
stage.
*These poems are from the poetry collection Drop Jaw published by NightBallet Press.
About the Poet
Rikki Santer’s work has appeared in various publications including Ms. Magazine, Poetry East, Margie, Hotel Amerika, The American Journal of Poetry, Slab, Crab Orchard Review, RHINO, Grimm, Slipstream, Midwest Review and The Main Street Rag. Her seventh poetry collection, In Pearl Broth, was published this past spring by Stubborn Mule Press.