TWO GHAZALS


by Signe Cluiss

ONE

she left me after mixing a fiber supplement into her cocktail.
happy? it wasn't until she told me i wasn't.

everything in the house is floral & paisley & covered in cat hair.
my windows have blinds. outside, there are crepe myrtles.

there is a picture of imelda marcos on the wall by my closet.
she's in gold & jade. i like to keep things in perspective.

there is vomit & cat shit in the bathtub.
i want to soak in bleach for hours. colors are boring.

i wanted to write a poem about being alone
but now it's about flowers & shit & bleach.

it's not finished until i mention america --
america. america. america. america.

TWO

It is mandated that telephone wires run underground in my neighborhood.
It is a comfort. The way light moves through trees and reflects on the windows.

Oranges are rotting in a sack. I break a blood vessel in my left hand juicing them.
When tragedy strikes we form support groups in chat rooms.

On TV, a white man with a gramophone. An Eskimo searching for the sound.
The Eskimo bites the record with his teeth. Oh silly savages, says my grandfather.

In someone else's house, a cat who rubs against the legs of the people.
I would kill for that cat. Squirrels chirp at cats from telephone wires. They are safe there.

Nanook is the name of the most famous Eskimo. In Malaysia "Nanook" means "strong man."
In Germany, "Nanook" is an ice cream bar.

Telephone wires and cables are the great webbings of our peoples.
Land of fruit and plenty. Land of the safe. Home of the savage.