May I now, Language and the gaze & My legs in the bathtub
by Anne Korff
[ poetry - may 09 ]
May I now
My feet now resting still
whine (again) constricting
torture of white patent
leather straps and fake
wooden heels
I flout and sink into upholstery
But tell me:
may I now flirt tough with
the eyeopening of curled
painted lashes and
also mouth promises with
underneath turquoise skirt
crossed legs of sun tanned
summer lotion beam
dimples and meet lips
smearing sticky fruity gloss
and glistening liquor saliva
Or may I not?
Not denude our of
neglect pneumatic pet
snub its faint breath
trample right ahead, away
paint over little white sighs
with loud black scared moans
back headache on tiptoes
oh, nein, nein, was hab ich getan?
blue bruises bronze cuts
bleeding holes where
my high heels drilled
Language and the gaze
their gazes enkindle greed
singing from chin to throat
searing to heart to lungs
scorching to stomach to intestines
sweltering to spine to womb to there
I am Cléo, Brigitte
my fringe pricks the apple
of my eye from
beneath rough locks
I glare at you
my lips dislocated
in an ecstatic pout
does a mirror dull the more it reflects?
Cut up in shots of wriggling
hips, waists and thighs all mise en
scène, edited and lit in
a titillating spectacle that I am
Fade
and the lens was completely clean,
fresh and white took in the streets
colours on white stock
then Shepherd's Bush's skeleton
drove past nightmarish beat
and then White City's air itched the eye
He had raped me as Master of the Symbolic
for I am her access is denied
and after he had rammed my
mouth again and
I had again swallowed
blood and spat
teeth and with champagne all
swilled down which was £80
A strange thing rolls off my cheek
sallow I sit in the white stained chair
watching the pretty sun beams
How?
When I laughed with wet dimples and
knowledge and will to contradict
but let him
My legs in the bathtub
The blades scrape my skin
the basin a sea
foam and dirt and kelp
the blue sky in its mirror
but this firmament is concrete
lotion burns skin like alcohol
beige with glitter, all golden
and smells of summer and beach
holiday and fruit
fills my nostrils sick
but my skin is sticky and soft
and I glint golden in the sun
and yearn to leave
therefore, I hate airplanes
and love their noise
that effaces everything
they pass
and won't take me
