Whenever you are ready
– and I am, boy! I was born ready,
that’s great, could you do it again but with more urgency,
imagine there is a storm coming and the last car out of here
leaves in precisely one minute,
excellent, how about trying it carelessly, as though
you don’t give a damn yet in a dusky cavern deep down
in your soul you care passionately about it,
that’s great, this time could you say the lines from a place
of exceeding happiness that you only communicate
with your eyes, good, now can you start with a silent cry
stuck in your throat like a ball of muddy leaves
and you are slowly suffocating, fan-
tastic, could you add to it a touch of mauve, mauve velvet
unfurling on marble stairs, but the stairs are cold
and dirty and you’re not wearing any shoes,
the filth gets on your dress,
can you try it with the smell of death in your nostrils – look!
there is a rotting deer carcass in the corner,
but as you near it you realise it isn’t in fact a deer,
it’s the putrefying corpse of your lover, caress
him – chin a little higher – really good but can you
shout it like a wish on a sterile moon,
wear it like a steel balaclava,
ooze it through your pores like freezing musk
yes I can and I do, I do.
Cristina Haraba