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Prairie Schooner 80.3 (2006) 128-129

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I Lead You Back to This World, and: To a Muse, One, and: To a Muse, Two

I Lead You Back to This World

At midnight, we dropped nets from the dock into the granite
water, waiting for the white bellies of crabs to rise, a screen of
embryos whirling and kicking the tide. When they lighted, we
turned flashlights on them to make the awful galloping stop,
and they sank like rocks into our nets. If you can still do this,
Jenny, I am begging.

To a Muse, One

James, what the hell happened that the tube
did not breathe into her when she needed it?

I am lying in bed in a prison town changeable about whether
you knew or if you were preciously manufacturing it all as
beauty. And so the idea of those thoughts I've wasted, even
though a part of me is in the stacks of the university library
believing you about a damn football game.

Therefore, when it came time, James, when you knew she
needed more than a tube, when it came time for you to do
something, you did nothing. It was the one real time I needed
you, and you did nothing. No. Do not say one word right
now, you dawdler. [End Page 128]

To a Muse, Two

We should be so lucky to watch ponies mouth our sadness.

This is not what I wanted, James. Oh, your sadness stares
at love all day. We should really get dressed.

I meant what I said yesterday: we say the same femme
over and over again. You tire of her though you say
you're happy. I do not believe you, have not trusted you
since Jenny. The coquette in your body ruined from wear,
please let alone the belles in mine. You should get up now.

MaryJo Mahoney's poetry and creative nonfiction are forthcoming in Spoon River Poetry Review, Tampa Review, and Double Take/Points of Entry.



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pp. 128-129
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