CITÉ UNIVERSITAIRE, GENÉVE, 1999
My marionette arms, my marionette legs, all bone:
Terpsichore has gone home.
A flash: my doppelgänger’s gleaming arms
across the room. I wrestled her down
last night in my sleep, but forgot
to wring a blessing from her moon-white throat.
These things only will be granted:
Cards scattered on the floor, the blond King face up.
A listener. A blue sky in the afternoon
when I wake up wooden.
A man with drunk eyes seizes my arm:
“Give me one good reason why not.”
My deciduous body dies a new death each day,
Every night I sink,
every morning I’m still swimming.