Anne Marie Rooney

ON THURSDAY, I SAVE THE PRINCESS FROMHER FOREST OF SUICIDES

She turns to the harpy starting on her thigh; says, Stop. The whole

red river stops, does not freeze: Stops. All the wings stop beating

and each navel stays sewn to its mother. With her blackest needle,

she begins unstitching. The trees must be unfastened from their songs.

There are no histories, only minutes. I have been saving my kisses

for this princess. On Sunday we are married by the golden Caterpillar.

He is smoking his smoke.

AUTO-EROTIC LOVE SONG

For hours I made love to imaginary

widows. Their faces were copper

and their faces were asphalt. I told them

how to dress and they dressed like that.

Mink and gold leaf. It was dazzling!

But all I could think about was the Russian

in that farce about death. She is draped

in the bathtub when Peter Sellers enters

with his plastic erection. I mean gun.