(a study of Anne Carson’s The Beauty of the Husband: A Fictional Essay in 29 Tangos)
Stronger than coffee this morning.
She dreamt she was a guy who wanted to dress like a girl. Or was she a girl
dreaming about wanting to dress like a guy?
She gathered her flailing body parts, her regrets,
stalks of wheat, a bluebird’s feather fallen from society’s
She wore a tie and satchel on Tuesday but Thursday forbade guys
from donning a silky skirt and blush-colored knee highs.
She didn’t look right. More like left-over corners.
Fractured parking lots, too warm, inherently periwinkled
Breathe. Just breathe.