Of the mad & For the beautiful
by Maggie Zhou
[ poetry - january 07 ]
Of the mad
I abandoned my superego
At the gas station on a Tuesday night
On my way to buy a carton of milk
Growing progressively madder ever since
At home my lover and I conversed about the future
We nodded and packed for another time
Back in 1989, for the execution of a madman
O the news reporters had a field day the moment he died
We hoped for 1950 in New York or the like
To meet the benzo Beat men, but lost our way
Instead we ate literature for tea, as artists
Composing an opus we soon burnt
And I became another kind of mad
Corresponding with Jung in my sleep
Talking about metaphysics and life and the infinity thereof
Not understanding a word he said
But he understood my neurosis of the mirror girl
So, I smiled
And asked him if God could have a hand
In making the days longer
Or whether Freud could spare an analysis
But Father's couch looked rather dreary
Instead I foraged for female cut-outs
Dreaming of the Vivian Girls and weathercasts
For the beautiful
The uniform skirts hitched up (to declare the individual)
a swagger, a juvenile smirk
and surely the nail painted a rebellious colour.
Walk side by side, a flirtatious smile and keep your heads held up high
the ironed hair shone just right (if a camera were to
capture you)
the thick liquid eyeliner, the highlights will shout you are older
ready to be objectified (the proverbial vixens).
Snicker at passers-by - dare the
meek girls squeak from their squeaking chairs
a mock will suffice to walk the ladder, amidst the volatile
war.
It is time now to declare:
Declare for the The Beautiful
In golden locks and denim miniskirts during the grandiose ball.
Your disdainful lips stay parched on Marlboro light (to
declare the individual).
Like the Thin People, in translucent mirrors and burnt copper tones
in their loveliness of symmetry.
The admired 2D in exquisite form
among the mundane. Among the mundane conditioned under the
bell.
Oh, we all say, they live life so much faster!
Did you see the wide space between her pencil thighs?
For the sake of pretences, dear.
Note the make-up, hipbones jutting out
there will be a test in the classrooms, judged upon your presentation,
your likeness to the individual; the height of the skirt, the length
of your hair and disdainful tone.
