Lucía M. Polis The Poetry of

This poem appears in We Were Hateful People.

the power goes out
at lunch

you never listen to what I say
she tells me   you're just counting
the syllables

I touch the spot where she'd bit me
it's turning my favourite colour

as from under the stairs
(or stars   come the muted
sounds of the world


i can hear mulata
barking outside

while inside   I tell the
three hundred dollar hooker
what I did on my summer vacation

I mow the lawn
I tighten the bolts on our bed

as i wake   bloodred marmalade
seeps from under the door   and I
spill out of her   ghostwhite


your toes are cold
this does not happen often
   oh is it raining

no   it's just a little
dirty   that's because

   we had the window open
   what time is it
six thirty   I told this woman

most powerful   I hold this woman
most beautiful


who nestles
in my greying chest
   we rest   I faintly hear

"unmask and then let's fuck
   what's left to be perfected

letters that I forget to mail
food rotting in a garbage pail
and for tomorrow's test

a thumbtack in your shoe
a reverie half recollected