"Double Thrasher Kid"
image credit: Greig Roselli © 2007
Stones of Erasmus — Just plain good writing, teaching, thinking, doing, making, being, dreaming, seeing, feeling, building, creating, reading
God, an androgynous childe,
an avatar of muslin, a linen whisper,
starched, turning turning, a leg cradles
into a V, pointed east, west
(A virile, crude me posted to a chair)
A mild body straight at the waist then
a triangle; God mimics a turn
in a cream gown; sweeps,
quivering beneath the torso,
not quickly, but delicately slow, like a gliding
erne: people scurry, people rush,
scatter, swim, splash and go —
but God turns a laggard pirouette,
a brief muse, merely monochromatic
and out of focus, a dim apparition
spoken out of vesperal incense.
Invading choir, God does a retiré,
then evanescence, a flush smooth wipe
from the serviette.
Mark is burnt sienna,
burned and wrought like a serpentine
fox, a lusty red torpor veiled
as a troubadour, a dapper dan
who stole my luster, my zest, my naïve
sheen — I was beige and taupe,
ecru and serene; now I am
brown, almost crayola white with
love handles dangling down, hazel in
my eyes, sipping a hazelnut coffee
just for spite, a greengage by my
side; yelling to be heard, smoothing out
dry, liver spots from my eyes
View of Governor's Island from the Staten Island Ferry |