Leather banquettes in old green edge the room.
A drab green of animal scales, guarded
Under agave, on days too hot to move.

“She turned her face to the wall.” The Wing, of the Dove.
Marcel: “At daybreak, my face still turned to the wall…”

The bed, the laminated stand,
With soap on it and towels, folded, four, five,
Piled like snow.

Marilyn (as Isabella): I had rather give my body than my
                                   soul—
            (as Marilyn): Some lines come more easily than

The things that I habitually say
are obvious. Why repeat them? Besides,
they are never what I meant to say.

things are easily forgotten.
yesterday, i was surprised to find 
an ash burning its way 

Dear you know who you are:

You must be so relieved
to have, at last, the weight

of my affection off you.

The gift of clams is here, waiting
in the large bowl on the cutting table.
We are waiting: the clams

I read somewhere that every love
has its own government. Or was it
that every love has
the government it deserves?

You’re loose,
sometimes good
and lonely almost