Monthly Archives: June 2010

Sex Rhyme

The cracks on my ceiling seem vast to her.
My imagination died with a man on a tree,
A battle, breathless fantasy, panning realization,
Like the day I discovered Bardot was a nazi.

Oh, we acted the parts!
A lower art, a mime, or less yet. But
I’d rather there was silence than the crushing reassurance
Of contentment and the little death of Marie Antoinette.

A rehearsed shudder, a plucked Hungarian –
My sheets stay achingly white
And deep inside, a teenager dies
With shame at the loss of the point of the night


One Year In Hungary

1. Spring

Peripheral towns; more fire
Walked barefoot from Rajasthan
Divided and torn, mean-while
Translucent girls ship in from Turkey
To chip their teeth on flutes – riches
Rented by the hour.

Here in the fields
Camomile pollen scrapes to sleep
Even the most ardent farmhand.

2. Summer

My balcony hosts a grip of stretching weeds
Anticipating autumn
When lipid clouds will smother
The people of the thermal banks

High in the flatlands
Ten storeys speak a mess of lines
Grasping from the bottom floor
Out to Romanian women

3. Autumn

Misplaced pride marches
Triumphant typical fears –
All conventional

Historic cyclones
Persecutive slivers in
And calls a home ’land’

Identity theft
Forefronting national minds
Life, impossible

4. Winter

Rivers still carve clay
The way they always have
Through softened bones of horsemen’s wives,
Lost Roman walls, and love.