X-post from the Lounge: The BlueIris Semi-Nightly Poetry Break, 12/28/07

[BlueIris]

"The Beast"

When I ask her what it sounds like
she says it grunts, it drools,

it's hunched over and grinning.
When I ask her who it is, she says it's her.

When I look her in the eye and ask, is it talking
to me now? Is it the beast talking when you talk?

She thinks for a minute, and says, no, it's curled up.
She's talking, but it's watching her.

Later that night, I make love for hours.
I forget my name, where my arms are, what

my tongue is doing. I think I must have cried out
unimaginable things and I think of my sister

in the next room, lying on her back, blinking in the dark.
The next morning, we make coffee and talk about the beast again.

My sister is rinsing out her cup when she turns
and says, slowly, it's male, you know.

She looks surprised.

—Marie Howe