Tag Archives: death

I, Adrienne

I found this on a piece of paper. I’d apparently written it, probably 5ish years ago? But who knows.

I, Adrienne

The uniform is important, the raiment,
the drapery, my skirt/ is a way of being,/
my knickers are part of what define me
Even though I look out over a goddess
in(of?) grassy hills and long/for the naked touch
of leaves on my skin, / I lie in forest beds
and notice foxcubs and woodpeckers
Here this ruffled cloth and some unseen band
Make me
In front of them I don’t know or care
much too much
the insolence of skin still becomes poison
As the sun sets over bodies
And my pack panic rises
Our other animals have fur and thicknesses.
Ruminate quietly in fields,
Waiting for death.
We have freedom to fear
and tremble in petticoats.

Side note inscribed nearby: [to kiss without defiling]

farewell the bottle

Off-blue wall light and standing lamps that don’t stand
A single magazine on the table advertising crochet
The abyssal antechamber hangs off an endless
The kind of corridor you find in pyramids
Or don’t find
We waited for nothing and then someone came
To announce it was ready and read about crochet
Instruments could not play or work
A wide room, a single flower pot and hotel bedsheets
I walked over to his vacancy
The stillness does not end so I walk to the soft head
I kiss his blue lips that are blue like strange lipstick
I push my tongue into his cold mouth
His beard has not grown back to tickle my nose
He is dead and we all seem to know
So we leave the flesh on the bones to rot a little
Before the flames
The pyramid makers did not understand.