Democrat, Illinois - The ElectroLounge

38 !
lviii. Étoile
[Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, “Dancer Seated on a Pink Divan,”
oil on canvas, 1885-1886]
You call the world an effect, how it leans in,
for a touch for a coin, something in purse
or pants. Sometimes trades back a heavy
promise called God, or a sate of loins,
or loneness, maybe a song in green.
Worse, does not lean in, the hours pass silent
on a carriage, in café, a park, muted barks
through rented walls. Which, then, you ask,
grows a heart kinder again, unclenches
those still-grabbing fists no longer a babe’s?
I adjust these straps, look around again
for something, for the beauty you seek
for the rage you feel. I pose for you
because I cannot dance. I love for you
because the world gave me this body, &
this heart, & little good explanation.
******
lix. Underneath
I dreamed you’ll find it underneath,
response to the preacher waving his tome
& pointing to a sky rigged with explain.
Underneath, where the pretty faces &
spangling nights devolve to plain chaos,
to flesh’s consume & sure decay.
The hungers & their statuary, the music
equal to deep manless jungles &
the onyx fractures of urban despair.
Underneath, tickled in unsure thighs
& muscular gestures to the stars alike.
The pain, neither source nor explain.
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