this one's not mine, but I do love it so

In Praise of Four-Letter Words
by Ellen Bass

We tell shit
when the egg carton slips
and the ivory globes
splatter on blue tile.
And when someone leaves you
bruised as a dropped pear, you spit
that fucker, fucking bastard, motherfucker.
And if you just got fired, the puppy
swallowed a two-inch nail, or
your daughter needs another surgery,
you might walk around murmuring
fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck
under your breath like reciting a rosary.

Cock and cunt--we spew them out
as though they were offal,
as though that vulnerable
bare skin of the penis, that swaying it does
like a slender reed in a pond, the vulva
with its delicate mauve or taupe
or cinnamon fluted petals were the worst
things we know. You'd think we despise
the way they slide together,
can't bear all those nerves
bunched up close as angels
seething on the head of a pin.

And suck, our yes
to the universe, first hunger, whole
mammalian tribe of damp newborns
held in contempt for the urgent rooting,
the nubbly feel of the nipple in the mouth,
fine spray on the soft palate.

What does it mean
to bring another's body
into our body, whether through our mouth
or that other mouth--to be taken in?
When life cracks us
like a broken tooth,
when it wears us down
like the tread of old tires,
when it creeps over us
like shower mold, isn't this
what we cry for?

Maybe all that shouting
is shouting to God, to the universe,
to anyone who can hear us.
In lockdown within our own skins,
we're banging on the bars with tin spoons,
screaming in the only language strong
enough to convey the shock
of our shameful need. Fuck! --
we look around us in terrified amazement--
Goddamn! Goddamn! Holy shit!

"How long til my soul gets it right?"

Lilliputian Bets Cycle

I've been doing some reading
And what I have decided
Is that in a previous life
I was a scullery maid
And you were a washerwoman
We gossiped about the lady of the house
And I secretly left lovenotes for you to find
In the pockets of frock coats
And helped you guess
That they were from the thatcher's son
And hoped you knew they were from me

And in another life
You were a rhinoceros
And I was one of those birds
You know, the kind that hangs out by rhinoceroses
I kept the bugs of your back
And got fed in the process
It was a win-win

Then in the one after that
I was a gun moll
And you played for a little jazz ensemble
We met in a speakeasy
I held my cards to my chest,
Kept your bourbon glass in high cotton
And watched your clarinet jealously

And in one way, way back
I was a great banyan
And you were a swaying bodhi tree
We shaded little tulsi plants and wandering chitals
And when the wind blew we had a dance
And our branches almost touched

And in our most recent past lives
We were both mayflies
I had almost built up the courage to tell you how I felt
I had been stewing all day
And just when I finally thought I might be brave enough
To buzz in such a way that you'd know,
All at once the sun set
And we were both eaten by an owl.

Et voila, here we are again
With you so close to knowing
And me, so close to telling
And I can't help but think
I'm making progress
Even if it takes me another three or four lives to go all in,
Shuffle my way to your door
(Or burrow, or igloo, or den)
And say that I like like you
And have for quite a while
And would you like to go for coffee
(Or caribou, or marshgrass, or sunshine?)

"your love calms my brambles"

Artemis and the Night


I pull one arm back,
The right,
And you see me focus
Then
An arrow lands
Exactly where I meant it to

That, I can do

If I look
Up
Even in the daytime
I know where you are

I can hear your footsteps
Thunder
On the pliant earth

Orion, I never meant this

There are things I couldn't say
Aloud, even to
The trees
But to you I could

To you I could say
Why I keep hunting
Or why no one can touch me

Things I could not tell
My brother

And now
You are distant points of light
And though I cannot speak to you,
Knowing it was my sting
That did you in,
Under you I still feel
Seen

I never meant this, Orion
Never meant to be
So far away
Or to leave you in space

But I am called back
In the night
To where that tiny speck in the center
Of the ocean
Still calls my name