House
Two floors
Down is stove
Down is bath kitchen music
Down is stove and the stack of logs
Up is bed and the climate the tropical
Down is desk next to stove
Around and around floors windows uncurtained
Outside is snow
Unmarked northern profound white snow
Up small woman alone
Icicles
Naked
“Heat” by Denis Johnson—
Here in the electric dusk your naked lover
tips the glass high and the ice cubes fall against her teeth.
It’s beautiful Susan, her hair sticky with gin,
Our Lady of Wet Glass-Rings on the Album Cover,
streaming with hatred in the heat
as the record falls and the snake-band chords begin
to break like terrible news from the Rolling Stones,
and such a last light—full of spheres and zones.
August,
you’re just an erotic hallucination,
just so much feverishly produced kazoo music,
are you serious?—this large oven impersonating night,
this exhaustion mutilated to resemble passion,
the bogus moon of tenderness and magic
you hold out to each prisoner like a cup of light?
Biblioklept 