came, overabundant, overwhelming, and leveled her out flat, she
could not bear it no matter what comparisons she made, at first she
held on. at first she would have settled for fish and eggs and milk, a
chair to sit on, some money in the bank, and sleep every night in
which loss left her alone, she bartered with God the loanshark, time
went on and bertha was dragged out flatter and flatter until the
nerve that was pure greed was stretched out onto the surface of her
skin, exposed, raw, naked, jagged, ragingly sore, detachment was
lost, discipline was lost, bertha cursed Disembodied Wisdom as the
seducer and abandoner who had passed her on to a terrible new
master, Pure Greed, herself turned inside out. she wanted purple
velvet curtains, a red velvet couch in which she would be happy to lie
forever and die, fresh crab and vulgar lobster, and women, the
bodies of women, pure taste and touch and fingers reaching in and
bellies rubbing wildly against, sweat and goo and no tomorrows, not
like the men, not to prove or to have, but each sensation for its own
sake, each sensation the whole of life, so that greed would wipe out
deprivation, erase it and the memory of it, each time, the impossible,
forever, her heart had become hungry, ravenous, but, cursed with
the love of meaning which she could not lose no matter how hard she
tried, lust made her sad, and her own lust struck her dumb with
grief, because if dust always reduced to lust, loss had triumphed,
bertha was lost, the crime was the punishment, lust was dust, still,
nothing worth a tear.
time passed, seasons changed, lilacs came and went, roses were
bom and died, the leaves turned burgundy and orange, then fell
burying the cement and earth, then froze under the first snow,
bertha stared, bertha stirred, bertha walked, bertha sat. bertha
turned restlessly night after night, bertha buried herself in dust, and
dust herself she covered dust, she sneezed it and snorted it and spit it
out. and dust spit right back, and dust flew by, looking the other
way. sweat made dust sticky, turned it salty or sweet or bitter, the
wind blew it away and the rain washed it away and the snow froze it
into slicing slivers, dust she was and dust she always would be, phi-
losophy aside, sad dust, greedy dust, slightly silly dust, dust enchanted by dust, dust cast into air by a sigh, landing or not landing, depending on weather or whether.
the new womans broken heart
(for E. and L. )
morning broke. I mean, fell right on its goddam ass and broke, no
walking barefoot if you care about yr feet, kid.
I waited and waited, no call came. I cant say,
because it wasnt a question of one really, it was a question of any
one. it was a question of one goddam person calling to say I like this
or that or I want to buy this or that or you moved my heart, my spirit,
or I like yr ass. to clarify, not a man calling to say I like yr ass but one
of those shining new women, luminous, tough, lighting right up from
