Erin Belieu
For Catherine: Juana, Infanta of Navarre
Ferdinand was systematic when He drove his daughter mad. With a Casanova’s careful art, He moved slowly, Stole only one child at a time Through tunnels specially dug Behind the walls of her royal
Georgic on Memory
Make your daily monument the Ego, Use a masochist’s epistemology Of shame and dog-eared certainty That others less exacting might forgo. If memory’s an elephant, then feed The animal. Resist revision: the stand Of
From On Being Fired Again
I’ve known the pleasures of being Fired at least eleven times- Most notably by Larry who found my snood Unsuitable, another time by Jack, Whom I was sleeping with. Poor attitude, Tardiness, a contagious
Rondeau at the Train Stop
It bothers me: the genital smell of the bay Drifting toward me on the T stop, the train Circling the city like a dingy, year-round Christmas display. The Puritans were right! Sin Is everywhere
Legend of the Albino Farm
Omaha, Nebraska They do not sleep nights But stand between Rows of glowing corn and Cabbages grown on acres past The edge of the city. Surrendered flags, Their nightgowns furl and Unfurl around their
Against Writing about Children
When I think of the many people Who privately despise children, I can’t say I’m completely shocked, Having been one. I was not Exceptional, uncomfortable as that is To admit, and most children are
All Distance
Writing from Boston, where sky is simply Property, a flourish topping crowds Of condos and historic real estate, I’m trying to imagine blue sky: The first time, where it happened, What I was becoming.
The Hideous Chair
This hideous, Upholstered in gift-wrap fabric, chromed In places, design possibility For the future canned ham. Its genius Wonderful, circa I993. I’ve assumed a great many things: The perversity of choices, affairs I did