Issue 42 - Columbia: A Journal of Literature and Art

that she placed in each bowl of owlet soup
in which floated owl embryos braised
in butter and chives, sprinkled with brandy
just before serving, and skewered
with knife-length pieces of jicama,
tasting slightly of rodents
the parent owl had eaten, ambiance
of background radiation, a theorem of alternatives,
the microworld of taste, from here
the same as a comet's rat's tail
coming from between her teeth,
a glittering skeleton, tendon flex
of her reaction attaching Reena
to the muscle of how hard the universe works.
preceded by romance.
They exchanged rings
like the bands on goose legs.
Before the Bear: Reena's first marriage
Promise her anything: give her foie gras:
stuff it down her throat
The Culture of Reena and the Bear
Once she began wondering what it would be like to eat her way
out of something, she did something about it: came to bed
in an open-fire-roasted clove-studded carcass of beef
(the cloves are the dried unopened flower buds of a tree
called the Zanzibar Red Head).
Unfortunately, the bear though as hungry as it should be
after hibernation respected the presence of Reena's husband,
so with him there the bear alone wasn't illuminated;
Reena couldn't hold on to just its light
and lost sight of its darkness in the darkening evening's
Bear hug.
The Superior Love of the Macurap in the Amazon Without Reena
Who's Busy Looking at Ursa Major and Minor
For their efforts the Macurap of the Amazon have
viscous jelly destiny of the broth
maintained for a week as one by one
Macurap women kill their husbands: the intensity of their love
finally at a boiling point: the body everywhere: inside
and out, sensitive to what touches, digesting
intestinal love, cud climax, deep marriage
in the pit of heavenly bellies even more transformation:
husbands taken to limits of what can be taken
in: husbands becoming ultimate alphabet of pleasure: extracts
of A, B, E, vitamin K, crystalline pyridoxine: vitamin B6,
vitamin P: bioflavonoid from rinds and husks:
Macurap wives watch their husbands eat some.
Citrus whispers roasted into his lungs,
tincture of balsam, fermented boil, white peppered
with grubs and lice, lips smack on
how nothing else tastes like a man
loved to death. His cleaned rib cage
is a bone cape around her; her legs twine
around his femurs
as she makes love to ivory scepters.
Golden locks on the pleasure cupboards
can be polished or opened;
grand openings
so much more tasteful
Reena & the Three Bears