Kristin's Dream In November

I went thru the turnstyle to the party
In the risqué penthouse that was not
A penthouse, I followed people but maybe
They weren't people, it was ethical
To follow them over the edges of the balloons
Until we found some tapsons to eat, heartily
We indulged & found the right move in relation
To the movements of the lion's mouth, the mouth
Which counted all who entered & left waywardly
Haphazardly the immigrant sphere where
Frozen petals fell behind the red curtain
So slowly they woke me like a knock on door #7
Behind which I'm dreaming
& trying to tango remorselessly


Bernadette Mayer

*

After eight hours of sitting in an air-conditioned room in front of a computer analysing forms, papers and proposals, I get home and am eager for a hot bath but before that I like to stand naked admiring myself in the huge toilet mirror, under the orange light that casts eyelash shadows of black-spikes under my eyes, and thaw.