Poems for Fu Inlι



"Soon it grew dark. Only the faintest light came through the tangled summer growth above them. The far end of the ditch was so much overgrown that they could not see out of it, but the place where they had come in showed as a patch of sky -- an arc of very dark blue. As the time passed, a star crept out from among the overhanging grasses. It seemed to pulsate in a rhythm as faint and uneven as that of the wind."


--Richard Adams, Watership Down



Poems for Fu Inlι:

  • Wish

  • Question

  • Split Second

  • In On Us

  • Sidekicks

  • Famous

  • Suspension

  • Waiting

  • Study of Me

  • The Song of the Goat



    WISH
    
    The waves were loud, and
    All the stars
    Started to blink
    And move like airplanes.
    They switched places in the sky
    And I think some of them
    Landed at the airport nearby.
    They were playing games
    With me – creeping
    To see if I would notice.
    I saw them doing it.
    I wasn't too surprised.
    Why shouldn't the constellations
    Turn like lights on
    A ferris wheel?
    Why shouldn't the lake
    Sneak up and smother the
    Rock jetty in its sleep?
    I wished I could spin
    Myself senseless in the black void.
    I wanted the waves to hush me,
    Blot me quietly out
    The way they smooth over
    Dog paw prints
    In the rocky sand.
    
    


    QUESTION
    
    It's thought that
    Tortures me.
    But the Bible says
    Killing is wrong,
    And I don't know
    How to quiet my
    Offensive brain
    Without taking
    The rest of me with it.
    O God, why did you
    Trap me here
    Between You and myself?
    I rock my body back
    And forth – there is
    Comfort in that motion –
    I rock and dream
    Of fickle sleep –
    Of sweet, sweet comas.
    
    


    SPLIT SECOND
    
    In the headlights
    Shoulders rose out of the lake,
    Turning sideways
    To block the glare.
    I didn't care who it was,
    But I did wonder
    What kind of man
    Would be thigh-deep in the waves
    On a night like that.
    A black dog pressed his nose
    To the glass of the
    Driver's side window,
    And when I looked back
    The headlights were empty
    Of humanity,
    Boring straight through
    The tossing green water
    To the opposite shore
    And the mountains –
    The eyes of truth,
    The eyes of indifference.
    
    


    IN ON US
    
    He had nothing to say.
    He stood there baffled,
    Agitated
    That I would cry.
    He didn't seem to notice
    When the sky fell –
    When the pink-painted walls
    Toppled sideways
    And angled us in.
    
    


    SIDEKICKS
    
    My demons dress in blue,
    And sparkle with crystals
    From the white crust of the freezer.
    In the beginning, they
    Set me down light
    On the balls of my feet.
    They spill silver light
    On my bare arms
    And shoulders.
    Thank you, my Captain.
    Thank you, God.
    My cold companions
    Have done well by you.
    I am heavy like water;
    I breathe screaming air.
    And the goblins
    Ride my ankles,
    Biting at the bone.
    
    


    FAMOUS
    
    Alone in my studio
    With all my stillborn babies –
    Distorted, sexless creations –
    Lined up in pickling jars.
    Conceived in the passion
    Of my self-loathing –
    Carefully crafted in
    Hopes that if I
    Must be nothing, they,
    Someday, might be something.
    They might care for me
    In my old age
    (If I ever got there).
    I didn't know at first that
    They were dead – I
    Sent them into the world
    To save me, to make my name.
    They've come back now.
    The landlady must have told
    Them where I was, because
    They found me up here.
    They just kept coming
    And coming –
    Filing through the door
    Like little soldiers,
    Arriving by the minute.
    They gather round and
    Fix me with their eyeless faces.
    I offer tea, but one or two
    Only bob their accusing pink heads,
    As if to say,
    "Stupid woman, you never gave us mouths."
    
    


    SUSPENSION
    
    I have hit it.
    I am in hell.
    The devil is a bastard
    With a crispy Phd.
    He sweeps the stage with me
    When all the guests have gone.
    He hangs my cage
    In the empty spotlight
    For all the lookers-on –
    And when I point the knife
    At me, he only claps
    And says, "It is your life,
    You have the right to die."
    But I would live for you.
    Even with my swollen belly
    And the murderous mass of muscle and jelly
    Pumping mercury through my veins.
    I could get used to chains
    For you.  But he hums, "It is too late,"
    So absentmindedly.  He whistles,
    "You're a nothing.  You're a whore –
    And he will hate
    You."  I agree.
    
    


    WAITING
    
    It's a countdown
    With a swinging knife
    On a pendulum.
    It's  the last day of your life.
    
    The letter you sent
    And the capri pants you bought
    Might mean precisely nothing –
    Might mean exactly rot.
    
    But at least you took a shower
    And scrubbed the front walk.
    At least you put the cat out
    And wound the clock.
    
    Better change your underwear.
    Better wash your sheets.
    The Judgement Day is coming
    On winged feet.
    
    You can defy creation
    If you pay the fee.
    And you can play God;
    And you can take the devil's tea.
    
    


    STUDY OF ME
    
    If he were
    A botanist
    He would tip
    Leaf after leaf
    To look at the
    Pale sides.
    As it is he
    Twists the
    Top off of everything
    I say
    And throws it back
    At me.
    He thinks about
    Car audio
    While I cry.
    
    


    THE SONG OF THE GOAT
    
    for Wolf
    
    I sit on my roof
    When it rains some days.
    With my elbows on
    The ridgepole
    I watch the neighbors raise
    The trunks of their cars, the collars of their coats;
    
    Open umbrellas, or duck indoors – proof
    Of their humanity.
    And then it's just the glistening lawns,
    The worms, the chimney hole,
    And me.  Above my little world – my city –
    Dreaming of guitars, and what I wrote
    
    The day before – looking for truth
    And green lakes, and blue tile floors
    In Oregon.
    And when the moon is full
    I listen for the nightly closing of the doors,
    The silent stars: the song of the goat.
    
    



    All Original Poems Copyright ©1998 by Rabbit-of-the-Sun


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