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To a T.V. Actress Who Shall Go Unnamed |
At the party,
a magician
pulls a white rabbit
out of his hat, then
with another sleight of hand,
shocks a red scarf
out of the mouth
of the rabbit. Yes, there
you appear—I spy you,
skin poured in,
cream blouse, button-down,
& the immediate red
lips like a flicker
of cardinal's wing
against the dark cyc of city-night;
even your hair a soft blaze
of curls moves me, moves
around me—I can't stop
looking at you. You smile—
I, close enough to touch,
confessing how much I like your work,
notice the small gap where a pearl button
has fallen from its starry place
in the order of things;
you, exhaling thank you, long
for a puff of smoke in which you might
disappear. O, no, don't
just yet, let me light
your cigarette? You have
nothing to fear from me,
my husband's here. Desire
is tricky. Talk to me
with that mouth,
please,
set this roof on fire.
copyright 2014
Elisabeth Adwin
Edwards |
