Invincible Summer |||

Laughter at your table

Who can tell us, Phaedrus,
what is good and what is not good
— and do we need anyone to tell us these things?


If Zeus puffed
one small breath
into your coat of flesh

is there even
a scrap of it
that merits your
or anyone’s contempt?

champion of virgins
will get you a fine husband
maybe two
devoted and delighting lovers
good work, good friends,
laughter at your table
children who always love you

will you but
spare your nose the knife

A poetry of omissions
of silences

Over Sloane Square
the thin girls
are pinned and pictured to the wall

Under their commanding gazes
do not exchange your beauty for the world’s

Do not surrender
Do not yield
of an inch