YouÕll
repent later, make your prayers
to
an Easter cross of calla lilies:
Yes
IÕm sorry I think IÕm sorry—
five
whole books of Moses
too
few to teach you not to
make
smart girls feel funny.
What
on GodÕs green ground has
escaped
your small eyes? In Arcadia
you
trip over all those sheep:
IÕm
sure IÕm sorry I must be sorry.
No,
nor am I when you recite
in
the faux French of your mother
the
complete birdsongs
which
twisted your young ear.
GrigsbyÕs
Bluff
(A
Cultural History)
Funny
animals—weÕve done all we could
think
of with rocks, wind, the direction of water.
See? I made it to scale myself. He tugs at the sides.
When
I put my hand here, let go.
Under
the wings of birds, we fully expected
to
stay dry or move silently through nighttime.
We
canÕt decide—decorate, or hide the women?
All
my life, IÕve never had to buy eggs.
Hand me the basket.
We
arrange into categories hypnotically, sorting trees.
If
anyone can
build a boat from three wet branches, I can.
HowÕd
you like to have a name like a bad card trick?
HowÕd
you like to have your only post office closed?
In
the floating world engineers measure every-
thing
by the height of their knees, keep their tools
on
the backs of black-bellied whistling ducks who
have
proven loyal as geese or swans.
Like
a mallard you purse your gray head
and
red beak to speak, to catcall decoys,
to
whisper pidgin-French mating songs—
This
is how it went for the first 60 years.
Why
Captain,
I had no idea.
In
the tub I turn purple
like
an anemone;
see?
itÕs the goblins
in
the skin, they
smell
water—
a
Butterball turkey.
Your
distinguished
prow
could use a
mermaid
or some
other
topless lady,
Cicciolina,
maybe.
I
would touch you
at
La Dolce Vita
on
the big screen—
fly
a statue of
the
Virgin over me.
WhatÕs
the name
of
that triangle (if it
were
metal, if I owned
a
tuning-fork) keeping
the
billiard-balls together?
E.C. Messer lives in Chicago where she has learned to
embrace snow and mass transit. She
is currently pursuing her MFA in writing at the School of the Art Institute of
Chicago. Her landlord says the
building she lives in was once owned by Al Capone, but she figures they tell
that to everyone who moves here from California.