Meanwhile the ladies live in big houses made of chocolate. Mirrors in every
room. Music all the time. But it’s also true, the women are lonely. Nights they
wander in front of mirrors, room to chocolate room sulking in hot, unhandled
skin. Very, very sad indeed. Soon there are no children in the land. Everyone
lives alone and dreams of what could fill it: the space between absence.

You’re waiting for the part that saves them. Aphrodite entering the land one day.
A woman old as fire, but creaseless. Eleven fertile organs. Yes, I want to tell you
she came when the world was at the end of its rope. Laid down like a shiny fish
for the stupid ravenous men.

But she didn’t. Instead the men grew bitter. Decided to ride their Jeeps to the
hills and murder the righteous women—but wait, men could never be so brutal.
I’m sure. So maybe it was butter. The men grew butter at the center of each
sorrowed, milky heart, and sent it up the mountain to the women.

The women were perplexed (Butter?), but accepted the gift. Next morning a
truckload of them rode down to the town where men lay tugging their cocks like
umbilical roots; hoping sperm would tadpole to babies in their loins.

The women rode into town with the pounds of butter. In the streets they rubbed
it on themselves. Ecstatic men ran out and embraced them. Then they all ate
until each belly was pregnant with gratitude. Until butter sang like light on their
lips. Yes this is true. But what does it mean? Did the women finally get their
demands? Use butter as a reminder of each man’s golden promise to equality?
Or was it a trap? Did the men eat all the women and later die with cholesterol
jammed like scorn in their hearts? Who knows?

In the morning I’ll slide butter on my lover’s toast.

ORIGIN OF THE DAYS

ORIGIN OF THE DAYS

SUNDAY: day of sun, a word old as religion.
the fishermen lean their rods
among broomsticks & boat oars,
slap rough hands together & pray
nonfishermen will die.
Also: the iridescent furious & something filial.

MONDAY: from the prefix, mono. Alone. Single. One.
Also mononucleosis, after kissing a fish with one mouth.
Also: day of the moon when the O is shuffled or eclipsed.
Also: moan day as the week begins to unpeel again:
the bed moans, the bones moan.

TUESDAY: for pairs. Shoes. Feet. Legs.
For courtship: Two eyes that see differently:
Left eye says, The moon is like a skull.
Right eye says, The moon is like an egg.
Also, of course, for the number 2 day.
Also for immediacy as in, I love you 2day & 2morrow we wed.

WEDNESDAY: Behold! the wedding of the weekdays.
Tuesday stitched to Thursday.
Also derived from wedge.
As in something that serves to split, part, divide.