Generations back, one Christian womanconverted — her love in a skullcap, prostrate
before something unfathomable.She yielded thirteen: an American tribe
I can go on pretending. I amthe denial I wish to be inthe world. The water willnot drown me as I am ofthis flood, I am of thisplain. The water willnot flood me as I amthis river’s course and Iam its mouth and its delta. The…
The women will not speak when they speak,they will speak of that time. When they speak,wiping hands on apron checks, they will notspeak of what mustn’t be named. One mightsay that time while pounding out dough and menwill stroke…
Oh, when it’s yes
she wakes, and oncewoken, hungry
and no is notin her vocabulary;
This octopus glares, tentacle trailing, tempting meto salt and bite. I don’t. I cannot smile.
Kamsahamnida: I bow and bow. A gold dust ounce,almost worthless, mossed wrist, a…
It is three degrees where I am staying nowbut I can’t say where I saw you last (the docks?. . . . . . . the theater. . . . . . . exit? the pharmacy
Michael heaves and hacks in the bathroom, a noisy victimof dodgy Chinese in Vienna and one too many full-fat lattes.I hear him call for me, pathetic mewl, and I shuffle throughthe guidebook for the Austrian equivalent to 9-1-1.Sprechen sie…