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Queen Mab Blues or Quick, Run for Cover, She’s Reading Horace Again
- University of Pittsburgh Press
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Queen Mab Blues or Quick, Run for Cover, She’s Reading HoraceAgain After all these years,Venus, why pick on me?—glib countess of the last word, queen of the bees. I’m dead, everyone knows that, breasts sinking, life half gone—if I’m lucky. I’m praying for cancer, which is insane, or maybe not.Who’s ever ready for that blue jay? Kiss off, leave me to my books, my pen, my lumps of coal, my short walks off long piers, pranayama for these wornout rags of lungs. Quit playing me like a tricked-up pimp quoting Mercutio:“I see Queen Mab hath been with thee.” Rather shall I say, Shove it all—your quick glances, short unruly breaths, thumping brain. My heart’s a wonkyTV waiting to be turned off. I’m through with you, your hex, your hungry eyes, mouth, arms, your ne plus ultra divine buzz. 43 ...