November 9, 2006

Something like Privilege in the Girl by the Window

It’s difficult. The quality

of which is abstraction.

A flinch. A wave of hair;

an undertone -a wisp-

of language, a syllable,

caught, given, passed on,

forgotten—maybe. The key

is for it to be about nothing,

to turn your eyes and forget,

to push and pull the straw

of your coffee without the need

to forgive, to have the plastic lid

squawk without the slightest

hint of envy. I’m not joking.

Squawk like a bird. Like a foreign,

foreign bird.

—Casey Fuller

Escape

How do you drape yourself

in the fabric of pain?

In a gin-drenched cocoon melding

lake and sky silver? Or in

newspapers, woolen gloves missing

fingers and duct tape wrapped boots?

Pop it, eat it, snort it or disbelieve it?

Or watch a marble in a wheel

red number, black number

who will it choose?

With black crepe, stockings to match

the look must be first-class

veil hiding tears? Or armband

with yellow star of David.

The final solution misses none.

Do you turn the news off?

Read fairy tales?

Do you watch knife’s edge

gleefully hoping

to feel something,

anything at all?

—Sheri Fresonke Harper