It’s true my bed’s a thorny nest I never really
let anyone into. But right now I’m roses; so here’s the floor (you’re
welcome). Listen – my window fan’s on HI,
nobody’ll hear a thing. Rain
flecks the dirty sill clean…so for a minute at least, picture
what we’d do, no furniture in the next room.
What? a stabbing pain? forget it –
I’ll try to – I mean, would you mind
just saying the thing that makes me
forget who I am. Forget me –
What’s your definition of a narcissist? (show photo of father) –
Do I look like him? O, can’t we be someone elses
groping each other by slatted light? – No, it’s the neighbor’s
kitchen, always on. Fluorescent, energy saver.
So save it – for yourself. Imagine putting the tailspin
back into your pants. I wanted to , and now don’t
know how: which button
do I push –
Oh yes the floor. It howls against you and (sort of) I’m sorry but
everything’s better hard (can’t argue there) – and I promise
later I’ll pick off the lint, & I don’t do that
for just anyone. Please
believe I want you,
pussy willow, chocolate gold foil-coin,
don’t un-give the fly you flashed. It’s raining studs. I only need to
carefully breathe alone a few moments, count to
sharpen my pencils.
Outside, the trucks charging down Nostrand Ave. hallelujah faster
(As if!) – as if they are teaching me to believe
I could get somewhere
by their methods –
Poem originally published in MiPOesias online.
Ari Banias has poems in past or future issues of Subtropics, Sycamore Review, Aufgabe, EOAGH, and The Cincinnati Review, in the anthology Collective Brightness, and elsewhere. The recipient of a 2011 NYFA Fellowship in Poetry and a 2011-2012 Writing Fellowship at the Fine Arts Work Center in Provincetown, he lives and works in Brooklyn, NY.