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EDITORIAL

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LAGNIAPPE

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The Three Magi

Texas bugs crawled up my window sill
the heat made me so tired, so wet
it was all I could do to lay stripped on my bed.

The night showed and again
you were not there
but coming coming
two days away
40 hours.

When the night poured on I was alone again
and wanted
a taste of sherbet, a green-flecked terrace.



Raw and undressed

The changeling is hidden
as you walk from each room
to the next.
It strips you
caressing the table
lying in the bed
chambre to chambre: you are weeping.

Feel the satin touch of the dining room table
cover yourself up in peach duvets
sit in the living room on the white couch
turn on the BBC
have some white wine
go into the kitchen
The light has to be just settling
it is 4:00.

Open the tiny refrigerator
there is some lamb
to be cooked, garlic to be chopped
come here    open the garden door
pick the rosemary.

Curl up on that couch, white and slubbed
pick up the boots from OXFAM
you left in the middle of the hall
duck into a black cab
eat in the back room with the
waitresses from Poland
taste a pudding with the chef
stay up all night
with the Stolichnya in the iced silver bucket

On Old Compton
hear son of a gun and see your boyfriends
parade through the street
let the girl with a purple Mohawk
buy you champagne all night
grab Jennifer's hand
put your finger down your throat
in a slimy toilet
with drag queens all around
try to persuade that ecstasy back out of your body

Get on a train
ride through German gingerbread villages
burst into sunflower fields of Hungary
—old woman on a dirt path carrying laundry—
let the girls from Australia
feed you on the ferry to Greece
rise to a Mediterranean sun.

Come back to the squares of brick on Cranley Gardens
get on a plane with Georgian stewardesses.

Baseball fields
swimming pools then highway lights
wet cement &
immigration

tears in a question
how long
will you be staying?



The Flicka Bird

Creep out, still sleepy. Pre-dawn
pre-coffee and coming out of a cabin—
a gun on my back.

I am 11, wiry, out with
men three times my age.

I spot him on my own
he is eating slender grass
he is standing in the grass
he is eating. He is blissfully
chewing. He is blissful.

When I go to him, a little blood
is there on his feather, a little blood.

I smooth it down
gather him up, head back.