So she stole her father’s teraphim.
What, in the name of monotheism,
was that about?
Those rare black stones.
Sacred knick-knacks, idols,
symbolic lion grabbed at that got chipped,
cover them with the ass of female claim,
settle in for the duration, and refuse
(“being in the way of women”)
Say you are neither disloyal nor pilferer.
And sit tight on the icons and rocks of meaning
gathered from the paternal household,
the talismanic counterfoils, even
the fewest and smallest
from the fierce storehouses of articulation
You will remake these goods in your own blood
“I didn’t take enough.”
“So go get more.”
Tokens from the broken labyrinth.
Rachel Blau DuPlessis, "Section 29 from 'Draft 85: Hard Copy'" from Pitch, Drafts 77-95. Copyright © 2010 by Rachel Blau DuPlessis. Reprinted by permission of Salt Publishing.
Source: Pitch: Drafts 77-95
(Salt Publishing, 2010)
Poems by Rachel Blau DuPlessis