poems by Rena J. Mosteirin

Blog Archive

Saturday, November 28, 2009

Juvenilia




You came to the desert intending to starve XXXXXXX so starve
-Kazim Ali, from “Gallery"

Goiters are decadent, you said at that sidewalk
cafe/ as we watched the overweight middle-of-the day Long Island
(housewives and otherwise unemployed) populace strut and stumble.
Absent afternoons/ you made the proclamations/ I held
the video camera (unsteady)/ you with your gourmand starvation,
me with my chubby thighs. I loved you H-----, I still
have that tape/ you were in the front seat of your father’s car
I was in the back/ he left the car running/ when he went into the liquor store
and you turned around and lip-synched with the radio:
I’ll be your dream/ I’ll be your wish/ I’ll be your fantasy...
We were practicing for some tremendous life. We were both/ the cosmonauts
and the stars. New York was ours/ stomach and appetite/ and all the black holes
and boiling points/ in the K-mart bathroom on Astor Place
where the decadent lack /paid off in pleasure and the famine changed
in the fever and chaos of heaven/ now relish your juvenile drought:
you came to the dynamo/ compelled to be a genius/ so be a fucking genius.

Monday, November 2, 2009

You Can Get Anything You Want At Alice’s Restaurant

The hell cat was there/ and the log lady/ Colonel Sanders and the Pope,
a prostitute/ a friendly cat/ the genius and the swine flu/ all eating my pot brownies
like the ones we made in Queens years ago for Abuela’s arthritis
and then we thought we’d just eat one/ see if they work/ hours later we were slack-jawed
everything gone/ at the kitchen table/ a candle was lit/ a pizza
was delivered—thank you Uncle Peter—and the brownies
never took/ the road to Abuela’s mouth.

How could we attempt the subway?
We would have been laughed off the bus.