Monday, May 31, 2010

San Francisco (excerpt from Six Urban Love Songs)


Pierced tongue. Do-it-yourself lisp.

What is this? Penitence? Native wisdom?

Mutilation? or signal: I'll do anything.

Was it a dare? or a careful plan? Did it sting—

or ache—and does the food get caught—

and should such a person work in a restaurant?

Customers' stomachs can turn—or does desire

turn to her—to wish—to feel the fire

glide over the silver (or is it gold?) pin?

And you, my darling, with your end-

less speculation: Is heis shegay?

Does he or she want youor meor either way?

Why do you need to know? I am here.

This is my body; eat. Unwrap. Disappear.


by Kate Light

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