Saturday, February 11, 2012

Let us Eat Cake


Do not ask now, little one
Don't stare your eyes into the sun
Don't wonder why the whispers call
through every room and down the hall
and if they hint it, smile and run.

Run and run now, little sis.
I would not wish it on my kin
to know the word porneia or
to know that daddies sometimes bore
when mommies age and nag and grin.

Let it please you, sweet my child
that ignorance (and cake) are bliss
I'll cut you some and we will dance
and don't pay them another glance.
Pretend as if they flirt and kiss.

I do not know, I cannot say
But let us look the other way
as eggshells polish up our floor
with Papa's suitcase by the door.
Tomorrow we'll forget today.

And when our childhood lets go
our thoats--when we can gasp and grow--
we'll not forget the muffled shout
or how mum's soul fell round about
or all the things we do not know.

We'll go and have a baker's shop
a rolling pin, a puffy top
I'll bake until my hands are warm
for sweet is good and does no harm
and darling, we must never stop.


Friday, February 10, 2012



Shove your fingers through your coat
and comb distraction through your hair
stand there blinking in the light
And question, never, what is right

We will stroll downtown at dusk
and strip convictions from each man
Roll and smoke them for tonight
and laugh; they're never what is right

The ladies at these clubs are chums
with dry-clean-only hair and hands
They scorn suggestions of a fight
and mention--never!--what is right

The strains of music pin me down
and lines you stenciled truss me up
Your skin is thin; your frame is slight
you do me--never--what is right

I beg the gods who hint at me
I beg the sidewalks, seize your shirt
"What do you mean?" your eyes are bright,
"there never was a what-is-right."


I Wanted to be Like You, Lady


I wanted to be like you, Lady
like your kitchen's homemade light
like your words--they drip with henna--
staining things in red and white.
your productivity is true
like the knife inside your hand
like the edging on your skirt
like your finger's wedding band.
I wanted you to call me friend
if I could not be you, yourself
I wanted to produce your Glory--
maybe, to ingest your health.
Like the dogs beneath your table
Clean the crumb--would that be nice?
I'm satisfied to mirror, Lady
dim reflection would suffice


Let Her Come

Let her come.

Let her sail with her braided laughter upheld,
with the corners of her shining mouth brandished,
with all the myriad glints in her eye arrayed
and every finger wave synchronized for attack as one chestnut mare precedes another--

let her come.

My lid does not blink and my hands do not tremble.
The law is on my side; so is love.

I know

Whatever this thing is
this horrible thing
that has happened,
the heart within this sagging chest is ready to absorb it.

I will absorb it as I did your seeds; good will come with my pain and effort,
like our children.

that's why I say I Know Love.
That is why when I see her,
I'll take her hand and tell her I am sorry
she's made a mistake.

So let her come, let her brandish the musical notes
that shimmer
off her shoulders--
she is only flesh, not goddess at all. Let her come,

for you are come home.