The Bad Wife Handbook. Rachel Zucker
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Название: The Bad Wife Handbook

Автор: Rachel Zucker

Издательство: Ingram

Жанр: Поэзия

Серия: Wesleyan Poetry Series

isbn: 9780819576118

isbn:

СКАЧАТЬ school girl’s tights speckle

      in the rain. In the city

      the sparrow on sparrow feet skips

      across my path, legs invisible.

      We are bound. Similar,

      indistinct forms called bodies,

      our Milky Way’s spiral arms—

      stars, nebulae, matter—

      bound

      to great disaster.

       Codary

      Once he was a type, kind, tide,

      but became a singularity.

      I stopped breathing.

      Where the husband’s orbit overlaps: darkness.

      No light can be shed on what lies beyond this

      gravitational sheer,

      harsh polarity

      of wanting.

       The Secret Room

      Isn’t hidden. Nor filled with goods

      or bodies. This feeling—

      [strip the wallpaper,

      knock for panels]

      I can’t explain it—is always,

      I think his gaze made it. I say

      what I don’t intend

      so as to say something of

      this tending, tendency, tender

      unsayable place I mean to take him.

       Firmament

      Below his clean shadow:

      a sunlit prairie. A wheat field

      from the air: plush and temperate.

      The breeze is a brave caress. There is

      something I see in him: tip, edge, hint

      —the skin of it. Shifting wheat

      over soil over cavern over water

      over igneous over molten.

       Monogamist

      Riding a bike down a flight

      of steps misnames them,

      reveals their lusty gravity.

      Have you heard that Brontosaurus

      is a Camarasaurus head on

      an Apatosaurus body?—my

      love’s like that: shaped,

      named beast did, did not exist.

      They should be called falls, this

      plummet.

       Galaxies Rushing Away

      I’m trying not to try to

      get him into bed. Instead I try

      but the husband flinches when I

      and flinches when I say

      I love you and I do love you but say

      I’m meeting a woman named Kate. Then, off to the winebar, order

      sancerre, nice summery white at $7/glass; he, me, and vast millions are fast,

      —red shift getting redder, every galaxy

      from every galaxy, vow, promise, primordial

      atom—rushing faster, all on our way

      to greater disorder.

       Axon, Dendrite, Rain

      When he speaks I am allowed to look at him.

      Let this perfect conjure slide over (all over)

      the thought reaching out to my loud now—

      I want to—

      but find no way to make my hands

      natural, accidental. I try to make his skin

      a chaste idea. But even his gloves, made from slaughtered

      goats, their pliable kid leather become a bias-cut

      slip, myelin sheath, the impulse jumps node-to-node, too fast for capture.

      The body.

      Less, less real. I am aware of wanting

      to look at him. In the long space

      in which others speak I cannot look at him.

       take your clothes off

      And I do. In dream after dream, except

      last night when I’m running a long way

      in the rain and, basketball in one hand, he

      stands watching. And when he watches—

      I run and run, do not wake up

      but that—(there,) that, that, that: rain

      at my window, husband in my bed.

       Rhyme, Lascivious Matchmaker

      Each time I try to—

      here comes my husband again and

      my mind, I’m describing; context.

      Forgive me, anemone, my green clearing.

      He is no still pool, but actual.

      If I showed him my skull below the skin

      then threw out the skin, would he wipe clean

      the bone? A thin gold wire

      prevents СКАЧАТЬ