Three Poems

Dan Rosenberg

SERVAL

Our bed is elevated. The serval hunts

on wires. Breaks open a butterfly. Dust

crushed in a vertical pounce. Lovemaking

on the proscenium. And lovemaking

in the hardware section. Our bed,

strung on wires. Our serval makes

a proscenium of love. We break

open the butterfly with a vertical

crush. Our eyes closed in deep grass

for up to fifteen minutes, the stillness

before the leap. Your paws clamp down.

Break open our lovemaking: the dust

crushes out. What else so honestly

powders itself to our paws? Butterflies,

hunted. Make do with the wares

we have offered each other. We receive

a proscenium closed in deep grass.

Your serval breaks open her hardware,

dusts our bed. And at my pounce

a proscenium closes. Your paws clamp

our bed: a lovemaking. The hunter

sleeps a hunt in our bed. The feline

twitch and flex of hardware. We elevate

our hands, the bed, we hunt the butterfly,

a vertical pounce. This lovemaking

breaks open. What dust crushes out

from us. What dust on wires we are.

What dust so honestly itself in deep grass

for up to fifteen minutes. The eyes clamp

on wires. The butterfly, dust-hunting.

The proscenium closes our lovemaking.

What else on wires, what else breaks

open: the hunter the hunted loves making.

SAFARI

stuck long unbuckled in the middle seat sweating—

we buzz toward the black and blue sails—tsetse flies

(—vectors carry disease—mark the path

of force)—sterilized—sails keep the population

down—a shared design—the lion stands

on a giraffe’s head and chews—the family has

a thirst—a vision—imagining through lenses

bent—maggots nest in zebras’ nostrils

when they’re still—alive—it takes just a quick

imitation—of corpse—watching—nothing

we’ve done surprises—the space from mind

to eye—the lively socket what’s in there—

clockwork—motion but—not dance—the vulture’s

black wings spread still—not death—the drying after

DON’T LET ME INTERRUPT

The garden-party feline flexes his paws.

Tremor and tremble, swat the thimble.

Rust skitters over bricks. The box

on her belt keeps her blood sugared. He bats

the wire, bolts, she shivers, under her chair

a screw unthreads itself. Hunted

from the begonias, she holds it together.

Bunch of pleats dramatic in a thin-veined fist.

Acne arm, colored frames askew—but just so.

Thumping in temples her blood is a slow-

dance beat. Her delicate ankle bound

in a strappy number, she stands, teeters,

the feline scrounges the corners for spillage.

Buds unfurl, a nub sprouts to thorn, we

congregate in the cat’s domain with our pastries

and time. What can’t we celebrate? A plane

shifts the clouds, the wall garbles the traffic,

the news, our empathy condenses, these

mason jars of booze, some suffering, the claw

streak left white down her calf, and what else

shall we call to sacrifice? The ice is vapid

in our glasses, chittering over muddled mint.

Her dress is covered with flowers but is not

made of flowers. I slouch down to eclipse

the sun with her head. She’s an angel,

the light strikes from her head, a liberty

crown, the box beeps, I feel the tug

of claw and fang upon my shoelace knot.