14 Bagatelles

""May thirteen medicine shelves
Be emptied for your sake;
May nine cartloads of hay and straw
Rot in your bed.
May your towel spit flames,
May your washing water turn to blood."

                     Or on the other hand

"May God smite you with bred bought for money,
With bread bought for money, and a whoring wife.""

Bela Bartok recounting the curses of jilted Hungarian girls in a letter to Joseph Szigeti, 1944.
(468-469)

1
a sun-dial is poured over with fermented apple juice. a monkey's leg is broken.

2
go to the tailor at the hemisphere's end. he is waiting with the longest tape-measure for your arrival.

3
children swing themselves under the shadow of the tower. no one asks to be pushed.

4
her jowls were the foundation of the family. often I came to visit when I felt my heart was broken and she said oh, it's just a little flake from the outer edge.

5
the ships danced around each other, their compasses in love. storms came again and again but the sun dried the waves as they broke across the bows.

6
I kept going over to their house. she kept closing the piano lid on my hands. her father blinked vigorously thirty times a minute. her ponytail was pouring out of his hand. sally lun, they would say together, sally lun sally lun.

7
so many things ran out of the coldstore once the door was opened. the spirits of our siblings who had not visited for so many years. the spirit of the steel rocket frame stayed in the back corner, begging for the door to be closed.

8
ribbons line up with forks. she is engaged to charcoal now. her mother counts it as her finest achievement. conversazione is caressed and laid on a pillow.

9
come to my house. grandfather pours water on the smouldering mattress if any hare sleeps in. oceans do vaudeville that's just the front door. and under the house is the turtle.

10
announcement today about the crossing. the lights are broken. everyone who came late to this planet will have to wait in the lane. nausea is to be noted on the punch card. speak to his gun in the laundry. if you see your rocket out the window it is Matthew's now give us your license. give us your license.

11
the turtle has a lot of kisses for black latex. that is what we all walk across. it wobbles and the turtle's white eye exudes a friendly tear. that'll dry up to fine salt.

12
run for an election. catch the old filing cabinets. in former hospitals everything stretches to a point. ink falls on the students, very accepting, a little wishful.

13
the bird stops in the reeds. slide down into the water. hold the end of a feather so you don't drift away. when he's ready to leave he will dive, and hopefully come up underneath you, who for now mustn't move. though the water is cold. your knees are frozen against your body. and you can barely feel the oily feather in that hand. morning wanders in every direction on the far side of the world.

14
the correct pronunciation is Bread. Bread. let queues part to your perfect posture. you can only feel the subway with one hand on the cobblestones. will everyone fit down those tunnels. will everyone let you hover with your hand on the rail. or can you sweetly approach the counter alone. her whiskered face. she does not know that word. it is perfect on the shelf. it cannot be purchased by you.