| Two Poems by Jeanne Marie Beaumont | ||
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Taking a Bath in Another Century Would it surprise you to hear I wasn't the first in the water? The tub really more of a pan I play a piebird in? My sister pours water down my back, returning the favor. Toes salute me, bowing. My knees are capped with lather. Cuts seal themselves up as tight as love notes And nails never stop. I've lost my most garish bruise. I believe the body is Time's busiest workshop. I should dry off when thumbs turn prunes. Tonight I'll leave my lavender and verbena Along the sleeves and epaulets of the Admiral's son. I've learnt the harmonies for three new songs. I have the joy of 26 letters I can work with my tongue. My sister calls me to brush out her hair. Look— The local painter's at the window bay (Rough chin, sunburnt nose, speckled cloak). He swipes a quick sketch in his book before my sister shoos him away. Under "C" A Caddisworm creeps from its silken sleeping bag under "C" in Webster's New Collegiate. Cuckoo clutches a perch, pokes its beak into the left-hand margin where it could escape unlike the Condor confined in a cage of small type. Cougar peers over a precipice, isosceletic ears perked, tail a perfect "j". Though "now extinct in many areas," it still might pounce like the polka-dotted Cheetah caught leaping to the other column, lured by Cheddar? Or a persistent Cheep? The Coyote thick in winter coat, feet planted solid as a bathtub's, extends its throat and bays against the crimp of page. An octave of distinctive Cats relays opposing feline notes, while lone Catfish is beatnik in its barbels. Two kinds of Camel trace sand dunes with their exotic necks and backs. They are as different as "n" and "m." Shingled Crocodile, in profile is the only creature with a shadow— cast from its snout and pointy ears like a fifth claw under its lifted head. Fellow reptile Copperhead is curled in pretzel-like calligraphy—its own headrest, blanket and embrace. All these are sketched with greater skill and charm than Cow: more of an outline with an eye and tail, detailed by sections marked like perforations. Numbers 1 through 39 prod her figure to disclose: 5 is hock, 7 is flank... 23 is the bridge of her nose, and 30 is brisket, 34 her milk vein, 36, 37, 38 respectively, teats, rump, loin. _______________________________________________________________________ JEANNE MARIE BEAUMONT
is the author of PLACEBO EFFECTS, which was selected for the National Poetry
Series by William Matthews and published by Norton in 1997. New work has appeared or is
forthcoming in Boston Review, Verse, Conduit, |
