are a hopeless theory.
Daily I fall from grace, the big
Splash, whatever.
I should have been an epic,
Eaten footnotes, married
Architecture, swirling through my twenties
In classics and couture. Poetry
Is the big lie. Oh sure, love crashed
Into my life, a dark pillar of flight,
A walking muscle with a slick
Of black hair. Soon it was legal.
A swoon of potential swelled
In the bowl of my hips. I stared
Into his heart but like the emperor
I was too vain, I said, What a tower,
What a prize! Brute love that
Line by line we indulged, so crazed
We wrote until we tasted
The last of it and stunned ourselves
With our emptiness.
I should have gone to Hollywood.
If you’re going to be a trophy
You might as well go for gold.
Stop at nothing, you who are
Ambitious. Let me tell you this:
There is nothing like an income
To cheer, nothing but
Humourlessness to fear.
The Rabbit Catcher
He guides you across the floor,
Thumbing your American neck:
Right, left, steady as a joystick.
What’s in this for you, lady?
You’ve already embraced
The ledge, tossed the crinoline
Off the roof, written yourself through
Paralysis and into your own book.
Was it reproduction that
Bent you to the gilded frame?
Like a poodle you leapt into
A knot of gold, you entered
The ring without armour. You
Strike a blow, bite, don’t think
To duck. It’s all foreplay,
Your body preparing to multiply.
I want to take you by the ear:
You have a spine, use it!
You don’t need a tarot pack
To see where you are:
Your rabbit heart bleats
In a field of stones.
Don’t just lie there
And let it leak,
Don’t let him
Drink you in, sell your skin,
And buy her roses.
Cut
But it wasn’t a man
That knocked me down
With the thrill of a slice
Of my will.
She was mannish,
Chilled, flung
Her will across
Mine then laughed
At my shock, when she
Gripped my neck while
Lingering over a request
For the evening meal.
Later I sliced a tomato
Close to my wrist.
The door was open.
She had warned me
Never to shut it against
Her. Otherwise
I was free to come
And go. Maybe she was
Right? I was zero
To the bone? Meanwhile,
I had left the hose
In the pond. The goldfish
Cowered in the reeds.
Whose side were they on?
I am ill, I thought,
Slogging across
Soggy green.
If I bow any lower
I will be looking up
At moss.
Thalidomide; Or, What She Didn’t Ask
What planet have I swallowed? What
Counsel has thickened my veins?
What knuckle and screech
Have I kneaded into your young minds?
I bury my doubts like glass seeds lick
Your knees and feet. I am only trying
To sleep, I am only trying to spare you
The worst of my thoughts.
I
