After "Stanzas, Sexes, Seductions" by Anne Carson
by Andrew Ratner

It is good to be neuter.
What's between your legs
is of no consequence.
Absolute void.
Like death.

But don't get me wrong,
I do have desires:
to hold fast to you, for instance,
even in vain, like
a wave reaching up cliffs.

I write poems about myself too often.
I'd rather be Not.
Desires go, afterward,
though I wanted to be touchable,
like a lover.

Isn't it time we see
ourselves as essentially silly
things?  Silly as sex,
which is enjoyable, and death,
which is not.

I love your arms—
so smooth & strong.
Will you pick me up,
carry me away
in the face of death?

Oh, how like a dancer
you are!  You rock,
back and forth, rock me
so slowly my eyes close
and everything goes.

© 2007 prickofthespindle.com