Poetry
Trade Matters
for a slave to snore in sleepingis counted a very great fault indeed no-one buys an adult slave (domestic—wild from inland is a different matter) the worst is the treacherous weatherthe tedium, the wearisome monotony Note: from Ternate,
View of Toledo
after El Greco Beacons on the skyscrapers hovered,The river’s black mirror jeweled with their lights. Watch as the exotic crosses loomed into viewOn top of the Byzantine church. The sign for Homestead floated overhead,And then a sky as wide as the river valley Working in the darkness in a world of flame,Ladles the Dippers above …
Tangled
Peonies
Now that the garden has been bulldozedby local managers, the jasmine has been put to the ground for now, lest the man in Burgstrasse 19 admirethe scent he feels coming throughthe clear window across the seas. Done with gardenia, I toyed awhile with black-eyed susan (even drank it dry in Kentucky), so that every other yearall would appear to come …
I Was in the Commons Kissing, and Lucy Next to Me Kissing, Too
Both of us under one boy or another.That’s how we spent our senior year,Beacon Hill, Harvard Square,Coolidge Corner, anywherebut Belmont, or Westwood Center. Boylston Street for bongs—Reefer Madness, incense, Yardley’s makeovers,buffalo leather toe sandals—her baby was bornwith encephalocele. While I held her,I hoped she’d die, though tried to love her,four months, she didn’t grow—Lucy rocking her,cooing, passers-by …
Dear Black Barbie
I made you fuck my white Barbie even though I knew you didn’t want to. There were no whips or chains,this was a different kind of plantation fantasy. I didn’t have a Ken doll, so I made you the man. Not knowing what fucking looked like I just rubbed you against each other and made you kiss. I kept you …
Chicken Soup
for Joanna Ruth Bock Instead of your soup I picked us up a six-pack to split. But since you’re six hundredmiles away I guess I’ll drink yours too and hopeyou catch a vicarious buzz through the poem.Here’s to your health. Hey, I’m trying to make this warm and easy on the throat. Fun fact: did you know that …
Returned
for Giuliana Sgrena, Italian journalist, kidnapped in Iraq, 2005 You were trying to tell their story. Why else would you be there in that desert of bullets and covered women so far from Rome, pillars and pressed olives, cheap wine, your communist lover? You were there to tell the story of the weak, the dispossessed, …
Salmon Summers
The fishermen’s wivesdon’t have to worry aboutmen chasing tail. Two monthson the boat and the men havegone electric. That’s whatthe vets call it aftera few seasons of catchingsalmon runs. Even thegreenhorn kid gets it.By week three of summertheir bodies are programmable,minds disconnected from spineslike chickens scurrying minutesafter their heads are lopped off. There’s no place for …