Après le D&C
When I braved the wind for unnamed fruit, the sea
and trees for shallow depths, the answer clung
to my inner thighs as I turned to building an empire.
I was sad to be done and glad to be scraped,
and my books remained unopened. The first was
on the art of recklessness, the next on neorealism.
Or rather, “After Neorealism.” I admit to know
no difference. Do you see how they lie so still,
so new, as cicadas die downstairs of lust?
As I wait here for you, bitter and perfect.
As I tell you to stay, and do what you want.
Isabelle Huppert
Vengeance is as dignified
an option as any, less lightning
than thunder, less timbre
than quake. Collared encore,
blank applause, trains stalled
for towns at a time. What good can
come of bad handsomes? What god
would hum through a hurricane?
