The Matter, with Abjection
Brian Blanchfield
The Matter, with Abjection
I would. Can I have a moment? Is there a condition
behind the one you’ve laid out? Does one come
away with all erogenous impression? Her eyes are
browner than I remember and I suspect there
am I betrayed. Is there any depth to which I won’t
hesitate to wade? Do you, wave, take this seed
and drown its use, to sport and to promise till
memory serves you well? And do you well
take to consomme as any cure worth its salt?
In the taste, a liquefaction and a liquidation.
A jam frees, a winter thaws, as one hide
becomes another, as one torch borrowing another’s
fire splits nothing. A hair please from each.
If a child would now take the aisle and grow.
These are his wrists, each brought round with child,
with single ringlets. He hides your bond.
Boy, have you predilections?
Sir, for predicaments.
COPYRIGHT 2004 The Carolina Quarterly
COPYRIGHT 2004 Gale Group
