Female-male relations (Portrayals)
House cleaning (Portrayals)
|Publication:||Name: Hecate Publisher: Hecate Press Audience: Academic Format: Magazine/Journal Subject: Women's issues/gender studies Copyright: COPYRIGHT 2010 Hecate Press ISSN: 0311-4198|
|Issue:||Date: May-Nov, 2010 Source Volume: 36 Source Issue: 1-2|
|Topic:||NamedWork: Cleaning (Dickie, Madelaine) (Poem)|
1. like the spilt white balls from my beanbag I keep finding it in the strangest corners. in the kitchen's gutters, behind the shutters, in the muttering, bloodthirsty beaks of our balcony pigeons they keep giving me dumb, fertile winks, not a stutter of question. (she is so still on her egg. so calm). it is spilled all through my apartment: this bleached and quick-rolling sadness. i don't know how to catch it. how to clean it. we tried the vacuum. 2. i told you on Bourke against the blue fizz of a Novotel, the black shotgun serifs of a kebab place, no tungsten to soften blows from headlights or cradle the creaking of our dreams. you, speaking in a voice shocked like quartz, me, weeping. further North the paintbrush clatter of pines and the rain in a stinging protest of shit and steel: you did something you had never done stripped and shielded me in your clothes (as if you already knew) cupped both your hands around my belly. i'm scared, too. 3. i watched another woman's children swim wonky freestyle, they seemed almost pretty perhaps it was the light: diffuse smoky with chlorine a flickering, vase-deep blue. or perhaps it was the change of season: citrus-cool it backstroked the walls. or perhaps it was me the orange tightness of my breasts as if suns as if octopus were stretching them sore. or perhaps all: light, season, body made that woman's children with their flailing-sausage arms look pretty to me. 4. i had my back to you. could we? i said i talked wider than the Pacific footloose and hungry and with a spoon-eyed desperation that you'd already conquered. i don't know, you said, i can't answer that, i just don't know. your mouth rested at the top of my spine. 5. the girl before me wanted to talk. I turned my face into your beard and held it with my teeth, later, we saw her knees triangle as if kicked from behind. your beard turned white. and then it was my turn. 6. nobody tells you about the cleaning.
|Gale Copyright:||Copyright 2010 Gale, Cengage Learning. All rights reserved.|