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2002-07-02
Elizabeth Bishop
B. 2.8.11 Worcester, Massachusetts / D. 10.6.79 Boston
Cerebral Aneurysm
Last dispatches from the Dyke March�
An unmade exchange with the girls from the Long Island Jewish Fisting Club:
�My what chic eyeglasses you wear to match your matching t-shirts!�
�All the better to watch each other fisting you, my dear!�
I am out of place here.
beamed from the midst of its translucent caterpillar belly as the Dyke March shimmied down Fifth Avenue�
Unasked of the last of the ass-in-chaps-revealing biker-style cruisers, a relic in angel wings feathered and meager and black, very party store (saved from extinction�by irony!):
�So�have you been out long?�
past the Empire State Building being phallic�again�
�Trannies��a word that slips my mind from year to year.
A butch or two looking good but then you remember the clinging, the indolence�no matter what they say they always do�how fundamentally they crave the La-Z-Boy and the good woman bringing. . .whatever.
I�m not bringing it.
past the birthplace of Positive Thinking�through bawdy serenades�
Harmonizing beside their big fading banner outside Marble Collegiate, the men of Church Ladies for Choice impress as a dwindling core supported by last minute phone calls (untapped: �So what if they don�t APPRECIATE us�I�m doing this for ME!�) and half-measure drag. When the holy eunuchs of the ancient matriarchal world tired of choir duty, they might have let the same mechanical edge creep into their praise-songs; this one concludes, to the tune of My Country �Tis of Thee:
�Send her Victoria,
Mary and Gloria,
She�ll lick clit on the floor with ya,
God is a dyke!�
I mean, God Save the Queen.
between the canyon banks above Chelsea, pooling with late afternoon shadows.
My view from inside an urn carved out of air like alabaster�
my view of the female figures pressed in relief on its sanded walls:
forests of limbs fixed at rest or in postures of flinging; orchards of novelty haircuts and bare-shorn skulls; complications of contour effected by heartbreak and piercing�
full on, they�re still silhouettes to me.
And I can see all the fake cocks they left at home.
Last transmission before contact�s lateral abandonment at 25th Street�down which hollyhocks beckoned.
Oooh whispers! What is everybody whispering? Shirts off at 23rd Street! Good God�looking around�I don�t want to see that!
Hollyhocks, and people in saris.
Consolation Site: Morbid�And Pinsky�But Irresistible