Monday, July 9, 2007

In my body, a sleeping weapon waits
and no one can warm the gears to move and slide
and open wide, after all these years
I cannot possibly say I’m sorry enough
But nothing is so serious in the candle flames
You look at me and I know what you see:
ivy on brownstones,
your children in homemade sweaters,
and tattered, antique rugs and things.
And you claim to see right through me but you really see
every movie that you’ve ever seen
about beasts and beauties
and I’m much too dark and wide
for you to see the other side.

Dear stranger, there is enough in the universe
and in our strange, young lives
besides emotions and relationships
And the same dull analysis
of insecurities and pride
it makes me quite uncomfortable
to watch somebody lie
It’s not a necessary thing
When we commune so nicely
over wine and weed and dreams.

In my mind, a sleeping woman
Is listening for boot steps
On the creaking stairs
And waiting for a man
Who has been away at war for years
Struggling through some strange and awful place
That is just as deep and wide
As the woman to whom he lied about his fears
And he will place around my neck
the simple string of beads he bought
at a market outside Bangkok.

Don’t kiss me,
he will find you when he comes
And remember your name
Even when I do not.

Hush, you say, the sea is washing in
But we live nowhere close to it
Come, I invite you, try again
I tell you all the rules and
you sit just like a Master
But you are falling far behind, my friend.

I cannot possibly say I’m sorry enough
For the way I am
I am not a woman
Because these strange desires can’t define me
And I am a stranger to this body, but I am accepting of its
Hospitality
I’m resourceful, as well
as you can see
and I understand the equations of beauty and symmetry
and my body’s primordial recipes.

You see, inside my soul, a strange, old man awakes
He sees your boyishness through his age
And you can never be as wise as him
Because he is me, and I am old and I am strong like him
And when I die, this soft and envied girl
will also die
Poor foolish boy, you only touch a phantom lie
And I cannot wait until I wake
and I’ll be him again.