This poem is taken from PN Review 109, Volume 22 Number 5, May - June 1996.
Three Poems
L'écorchée vive
What I long for these days is a wrapping
of skin and subcutaneous fat,
and my soul pladd,
possessed of all the ruminant virtues:
heft, girth and phlegm. Thrift,
no more of this wild taking and spending,
not even the stubbiest
of vestigial wings. A soul without lift,
no yearnings laying waste to it. Not mine,
that heart emaciated by its own desires.
Tree-treachery
Who would have guessed the treachery of birches,
...
The page you have requested is restricted to subscribers only. Please enter your username and password and click on 'Continue'.
If you have forgotten your username and password, please enter the email address you used when you joined. Your login details will then be emailed to the address specified.
If you are not a subscriber and would like to enjoy the 288 issues containing over 11,600 poems, articles, reports, interviews and reviews, why not subscribe to the website today?
If you have forgotten your username and password, please enter the email address you used when you joined. Your login details will then be emailed to the address specified.
If you are not a subscriber and would like to enjoy the 288 issues containing over 11,600 poems, articles, reports, interviews and reviews, why not subscribe to the website today?
