Curse of the
It sometimes happens
that the woman you meet and fall in love with
is of that strange Transylvanian people
with an affinity for cats.
You take her to a restaurant, say, or a show,
on an ordinary date, being attracted
by the glitter in her slitty eyes and her catlike walk
and afterward of course you take her in your arms
and she turns into a black panther
and bites you to death.
Or perhaps you are saved in the nick of time
and she is tormented by the knowledge of her tendency,
that she daren't hug a man
unless she wants to risk clawing him up.
This puts you both in a difficult position
Panting lovers who are prevented from touching
not by bars but by circumstance:
you have terrible fights and say cruel things
for having the hots does not give you a sweet temper.
One night you are walking down a dark street
and hear the padpad of a panther following you,
but when you turn around there are only shadows,
or perhaps one shadow too many.
You approach, calling, "Who's there?"
and it leaps on you.
Luckily you have brought along your sword
and you stab it to death.
And before your eyes it turns into the woman you love,
her breast impaled on your sword,
her mouth dribbling blood saying she loved you
but couldn't help her tendency.
So death released her from the curse at last,
and you knew from the angelic smile on her dead face
that in spite of a life the devil owned,
love had won, and heaven pardoned her.
OctopusAfter he settles himself down beside me on the couch in the evening.
With two arms he holds a book
that he reads with his single eye:
he wears a pair of glasses over it for reading.
Two more arms go walking over to the sideboard across the room
where the crackers and cheese spread he loves are,
and they send back endless canapes, like a conveyor belt.
While his mouth is drooling and chomping,
another arm comes over and gropes me lightly:
it is like a breeze on my balls, that sweet tentacle.
Other arms start slipping around my body under my clothes,
they wiggle right in, one around my waist,
and all over, and down the crack of my ass.
I am drawn into his midst where his hot mouth waits for kisses,
and I kiss him and make him into a boy
as all Giant Pacific Octopuses are really
when you take them into your arms.
All their arms fluttering around you
become everywhere sensations of pleasure.
So, his sweet eye looks at me and his little mouth kisses me
and I swear he has the body of a Greek god,
my Giant Pacific Octopus boychik.
So this was what was in store
when I first saw him in the aquarium
huddled miserably on the rock ignoring the feast of live crabs
they put in his windowed swimming pool.
You take home a creature like that, who needs love,
who is a mess when you meet
but who can open up like a flower with petal arms waving around,
a beauty ---
and it is a total pleasure to have him around,
even collapsible as he is like a big toy,
for as long as he will stay, one night or a lifetime,
for as long as god will let you have him.--- From After the Fall
Poems Old and New
©2007, University of Pittsburgh Press)Go to a
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