American Chordata: Magazine of New Writing Issue One, Spring 2015 | Page 87

Haus: Fort-Da

69 • PO
ETRY

But halfway down a hill resides one house
All modular, a keep for hearts, and gin,
Arising like the crenellations of
Some sidestreet fortress. Shored against the bands
Marauding in the street, we watch their cries
For sex and validation, hop-soaked brains’
Sad ululations. From the terrace fear
We spook with clinks of cheers and cigarettes
In exhalation: spirit drums and fireWorks shrouding us in prelude, surety, pluck.
Inside, among absinthe parisienne
Posters, books overflow their case, in soft
And hazy light: we incandesce, our lot
Abrim with courage they call Dutch. No short
Supply, we refestoon with juniper
And ginger, blossoms on our cheeks, the mirth
Of weekends, weekends, weeknights too; concised,
Each night a palimpsest of precedents
In this, the durance of our memory.

In the room, the revelers come and go,
Again, forgetting Michelangelo.