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

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