spun and you stopped me and said Where are you

staying. I saw the ring on your finger. The bottom dropping out.

We talked on the stage steps, half hidden by a ficus. A cup of

punch on your knee, jeans so tight at the thigh I could see

how big you were. I blushed, touched it anyway. Not a sound

from you. Watching my face, little smile, devastation: the

music grew. Where’s your wife, I said, and you laughed: we

would never be in public together again. I think I’m drunk, I

said, moving my hand away. There’s no booze in that punch,

darling, you said, and got me another glass.

ASCALON

ASCALON

St. George—

helmet aslant, boot on the back.

But where is victory?

The staff never moves,

hovers just above the tongue.

He’ll wait forever for that hard kiss.

I make a list: spear, spurs,

silver, speed.

Good luck, George says.

And the dragon

winks.

FIRST

FIRST

Slapped between the sheets no ceremony you skinned me

stockings to boots I hadn’t shaved I couldn’t spread my legs

you got in anyway. No condom no question Did you want or

Have you got just your hand against my face, a stroke before

the slap. I was dry when you got inside. I hid from you. I

didn’t come. Your skin in my mouth, bitter, delicious, you too

close to see, what was touching me, your breath all around,

the sound of something chasing us. It caught up.

AMATEUR

AMATEUR

I drew my way through the year, having dropped out of

everything. That ad for the cabin written for someone like

me, who didn’t know what Get Away Cheap meant; you can’t

get away. I went to live like a nun, pure, distractionless.

One packed bag. I wanted to draw nature. Tired of drawing

people. Instead I drew you: as a tree, a fox, a stream, a dragon,

a devil. I drew you as I used to draw myself, at first to make

more of you, later to get rid of you, and now I don’t draw you

at all, there are other things, and I never got it right.

ADONIS

ADONIS

We met once

two towns over

for breakfast. A diner. Butter

sunk in the muffins. Two plates

of bacon. There was snow

stuck to the windows, a waitress

in blue pulling at her stocking.

We sat on the same side

in a booth and I held your hand so tight.

How strange to have you

out in the world. Coffee. Syrup.

the way you liked your eggs

gutted on toast.

What, you said, your mouth full,

I kept touching

your face. You brought it closer

to mine, looked in my eyes. There was some

promise there. Some bargain. A roach

on the floor. Just let me look at you.

The check came. We left

in separate cars.

ELEGY

ELEGY