LADY FAUSTUS

I

Devils be ready! My curiosity

       stalks the outpost of its caution,

          and soon I’ll swap anything

       from savvy to soul

             for one year’s furlough

smackdab in the sleaziest lay-by

          you’ve got. Take me at my word,

       and now, if you like, before night

digs its purple claws in deep.

          Like spilled pollen,

       sun coats the horizon: raw heat

             fitful as a cautery.

I, too, am burning with a lidless flame.

II

          Bluefall after twilight.

Mud and snow hyena-speckle the road.

          Through a cataract of frost

rimming the window, I browse

          a tiptilted moon, and shake loose

the predatory gaze of two planets.

       Jets crossing like motorboats

between the stars

       seem only a footstep from each

          port of call, a few fathoms perhaps

             to a way station

       tucked under the hem of night—

       a viper’s den, a Marrakesh

          full of low-life and baubles

mind never dreamed of, rickety hostels,

             banks and beaneries,

       phantoms that clack down the streets

like dice, artists and hucksters,

          grog-shops and depots,

the misguided, the lost, and the shanghaied.

III

          And in that circus mix

where merchants jaw with madmen

          neither men nor mad, I want to dawdle,

       slouched on the curb,

          or strolling ribtight alleys

       that ravel like twine;

       watching jewelers thrill metal

             to carve steel netsukes,

and handymen work miracles

          with stupefied wood;

       learning alien artforms and lingoes;

gaping at creatures

          gaping as spellbound at me,

       pirouette for pirouette,

our eyes fumbling one another

          like pubescent children;

       hearing traders gabble and sign

       an argot spiky as hieroglyphics

          moaned; talking shop

with gauchos from Aldebaran; clapping eyes

       on new and unimagined

             monotonies.

IV

          My heart’s no émigré;

the glib traffickings of a squirrel

       can detain me for hours.

So, too, the mud runes left by a newt.

          I try my goodwill on resident aliens

             like the earthworm, or the apple.

       I know so little about an oyster’s logic,

or why slugs mate acrobatically

             from slime gallows.

          Earth isn’t small enough for me

to exhaust. Why covet mind-teasers

             lightyears away?

       A kennelled dog croons in my chest.

          I itch all over. I rage to know

       what beings like me, stymied by death

and leached by wonder, hug those campfires

             night allows,

          aching to know the fate of us all,

wallflowers in a waltz of stars.