In the Garden of the Bridehouse

Self-Portrait as the Record Player’s Needle

12 Self-Portrait as the Record Player’s Needle I carved a record out of frozen Irish creamer. I wanted it to sound like coffee poured through silk. At the limits of reason, I sought to seduce you. But you wanted me to stop buying happiness: blue dog dolls, banker lamps, and puddles for birds. You wanted me to run with you through worm-laden forests & shed black petals. But there is no movement between the object & my body, only these certainties: a match, a lamp, a self withdrawing into its appearance. ...