Gato compañero

No hay nada de ficción,
apenas un diálogo mudo,
no hay comunicación
ni comprensión siquiera del dolor,
no hay compasión.
Hay sin embargo un destino tenaz
de abandono impotente
a seguir siendo

en manos no de lo desconocido
sino de lo absolutamente incognoscible.

Beauty and the Beast

Darling, the plates have been cleared away,
the servants are in their quarters.
What lies will lie down with tonight?
The rabbit pounding in your hearth, my

child legs, pale from a life of petticoats?
My father would not have had it otherwise
when he trudged the road home with our souvenirs.
You are so handsome it eats my hearth away . . .

Beast, when you lay stupid grief
at my feet, I was too young to see anything
die. Outside, the roses are folding
lie upon red lip. I miss my sisters–

They are standing before their clouded mirrors.
Gray animals are circling under the windows.
Sisters, don't you see what will snatch you up–
the expected, the handsome, the one who needs us?


I prove a theorem and the house expands:
the windows jerk free to hover near the ceiling,
the ceiling floats away with a sigh.

As the walls clear themselves of everything
but transparency, the scent of carnations
leaves with them. I am out in the open

and above the windows have hinged into butterflies,
sunlight glinting where they’ve intersected.
They are going to some point true and unproven.