Tuesday, June 5, 2012

confessions (this bay of love)

confessions (this bay of love)

I was carried to Ohio in a swarm of bees
I never married but Ohio don't remember me

they told him “Don’t move”
their voices hollow
echoing as if in a tunnel

he lay perfectly still on the table
arms crossed on his chest
waiting as if in a coffin

although he knew their commands
were arbitrary except to control
like the bright light in his face

“What do you want?” they asked
he lay thinking about which word
they had weighted in their question


“I want to be loved,” he heard himself say
“I want to be desired, I want to be craved—”
drifting to the piano haunting that song

“That’s not so much,” they interrupted
“That’s not so hard” voices not comforting
but swarming his head like bees or smoke

“—by her,” he heard himself shout
(he thought bark)
“By only her, only her,” his voice trailing
tucked between his legs because he knew

“Ah, so, that is entirely different, you know”
he wanted to say “I read Foucault in translation”
but his throat was frozen like a mossy rock wall

there he felt tears pooling in his eye sockets
and them surrounding him stiff on the table
just before he recognized the straps tightening

“I can barely breath he would have said
he couldn’t think clearly beneath his own tears
had he confessed yet another mistake?

“Well, since you mentioned her, let’s do that”

and this was the part he always expected
in his dreams of being strapped to a table
surrounded by disembodied voices buzzing

“You think this is funny,” they stated the words flatly
and this was where he knew something else
his happiness of only her stilled them

like a life-sized puzzle of the entire universe
every piece black and the clock ticking
“Belarus is flooding,” he heard himself laughing

he imagined a wolf howling in moonlight
high in the shadows of Pico de Orizaba
this bay of love they will never understand

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