That's me: the woman sitting
in her house among
many light excesses.
This is winter.
This is a heap of lacking
and the mind's trash
becoming the need
for many fabric protections,
in a way that quilts alone
could never be. I climbed up
on the bed to see you,
and the light from the ceiling
and the dresser lit your face
like an apple orchard on the day
a farmer's favorite horse
rose from the dead.
LEISURE, HANNAH, DOES NOT AGREE WITH YOU (2)
— After Catullus
My house disgusted me, so I slept in a tent.
My tent disgusted me, so I slept in the grass. The grass disgusted me,
so I slept in my body, which I strung like a hammock from two ropes.
My body disgusted me, so I carved myself out of it.
My use of knives disgusted me because it was an act of violence.
My weakness disgusted me because "Hannah" means "hammer."
The meaning of my name disgusted me because I'd rather be known
as beautiful. My vanity disgusted me because I am a scholar.
My scholarship disgusted me because knowledge is empty.
My emptiness disgusted me because I wanted to be whole.
My wholeness would have disgusted me because to be whole
is to be smug. Still, I tried to understand wholeness
as the inclusiveness of all activities.: I walked out into the yard,
trying to vomit and drink milk simultaneously. I tried to sleep
while smoking a cigar. I have enough regrets to crack all the plumbing.
I'm whole only in that I've built my person from every thought I've ever loved.
MAYBE A FAREWELL TOUR
Because it had grown warmer in the night
I realized that while I was sleeping
your anger towards me
must have lessened.
Letters to my friends begin: "Writing you here,
among the poinsettias. . ."
and then I drop my pen
and think about how, at this moment,
my mother and her God are alone in a room,
and he is comforting her.
Your Invitation To A Modest Breakfast
(Fence Books 2012)