Slow Bird

By | 1 March 2015

A sensorium makes you abstract
grilled right into yourself into the grille
a sobby plasticity of childhood
or the lot that behooves women,
imposes doom and the negative
clings to negative non-women,
loves the negative,
& loves women.

There was a time in the early nineties
words like “exigencies”
and “antagonism” did not exist
Freud and Marx were beyond dead, worse,
Carolyn Steedman and Bernadette Mayer
were completely mute, nowhere around.
She fêted abstraction and
pursued it relentlessly.
Like a bat in a cave

Or a dedicated virgin saint, maybe—
then maybe:

One day, a man hammered at the door.
Who is that! Who is that man

(list of things I wanted as a girl)
A man’s arm resting around me
Black Book of Capitalism’s Embrace
Kids whose parents make them take fencing lessons
But you’re nobody, til somebody – it kills you
Etoliation gradually over the night
Suffolk as a green, green plant
We suffered and resentfully died

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