21 October 2012

#15: Flower

He can call me
a flower if he wants to.
Now look what you've gone
and made me do, what
you've gone and done.

11 October 2012

#14: Reception

White glass red
glass, paper truffle.
Struggle to behave.

#13: Mariinsky

Swan Lake is a story about men
not affecting a woman who changes.
Act Two, a prince moves her
and she does not move, twirls
paralyzed, head snapping
on neck, her hands flat like two tables.
In black before the house opens
their branched arms twitch. "Niet"
calls the wincing director, waving.
A floodlight leaks through his hands.

09 October 2012

#12: Accommodation

He disposes himself in this
part of the house, going and
coming into the foyer, fearful.

A loss takes place in the foyer
under a light, penned-in but
streaming onto him, mold-cast, pale.

He sleeps, knees stacked like blocks,
despite the brightness, tightly,
breathing hot, the mirror a wall.

A leaf has this unattainable flatness.
Short sleep done, the moon out,
the streaming slows, making him frail.

08 October 2012

#11: Pressure

Our table fits into the wall, whites mixing.
Two horsehair baskets cradle bags of pasta.
Wicker wraps a carafe, seamed but holding
together, that cannot serve even as a vase.

Four green bananas lie curled there.
It was hard to buy food yesterday, there was
a street fair, swarming, swooning flowers,
we didn't make a list and were lost and unhappy.
Back on the bus, forgot beer and cashews,
tourists swelling their din in scrape languages.

Jalapenos and zucchini we dump in the crisper,
stacking cheddar with extant butter. Bananas
left on the table to change color begin to.

#10: Gravity

She is far away when she comes in
as he goes to close the door.
He dismantles himself completely
at a compliment. "I only seem
so nice and formal," he explains.
(Keep her separate, might he
do that, wouldn't it sustain him?)
She could sit between
his fingers and sigh there with
a gravity like reclamation - in how
he asked for her or said he would
not ask for her. Sullen, quarantined
indwelling breastbones. Hid by
skin. Basket for the table made from needles.