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.