Rival Super Powers
My secret super power is that I can tell when eyes
watch me from across a room
and yours bored into me as the pinot emptied
amid talk of third party co-pays and the sound of a sad man
leafing through old Vanity Fair issues. You weren’t
undressing me with your eyes, but dressing me:
nylons smoothed up my legs, the bra with the little pointless flower
snugged, you pull on my maillot, correct my pronunciation of maillot,
the red dress I discarded you restore, the leather jacket in the back
of my closet you rescue, clench the teeth of each zipper tight
knot the scarves, circle the skirts, pill the sweaters, hug the jackets,
pull my arms through vests, tie ribbons, stack the hats.
I’m wrapped like an international suitcase, I’m bigger than buffet,
a water buffalo of a woman, crashing conversations, no one can
come close to me until finally your wife says: Can I take your coat?
She’s onto the women at this party all in a sweat
as she trips around in a diaphanous apron,
her secret super power how a minute before the bell rings, she knows the bird is done.
At the Endless Awards Banquet
Here is some squash. Here is some water.
The MC has one joke, he milks like a cow.
Here are some flowers. Here are some forks.
Do not use them to stab people. Here is your coffee.
Drink it.
Here are the achievements of the honoree.
Here are the achievements of you. The first
grows larger, larger, like the world’s
largest cow. The size of a van. The size of
Tokyo at night.
The achievements of you have been stabbed.
with a fork. Your essence pours from tine-shaped holes,
in the colors of cold cream, burnt sienna, royal blue.
You haven’t wasted your life on William Duffy’s farm.
You’ve just wasted it.
The honoree invented Tokyo. They invented sky,
but lost the patent. Every squash in the ground gives hosannas
as the MC descends in a slow screwing motion. And you, love!
You keep slipping me dirty notes, lip puckers and love winks, you for whom
I gave up everything.