Dear Lacuna, Dear Lard:

By Paisley Rekdal Paisley Rekdal
I’m here, one fat cherry
              blossom blooming like a clod,
 
one sad groat glazing, a needle puling thread,
              so what, so sue me. These days what else to do but leer
 
at any boy with just the right hairline. Hey! I say,
              That’s one tasty piece of nature. Tart Darkling,
 
if I could I’d gin, I’d bargain, I’d take a little troll
              this moolit night, let you radish me awhile,
 
let you gag and confound me. How much I’ve struggled
              with despicing you, always; your false poppets, relentless
 
distances. Yet plea-bargaining and lack of conversation
              continue to make me
 
your faithful indefile. I’m lonely. I’ve turned
              all rage to rag, all pratfalls fast to fatfalls for you,
 
My Farmer in the Dwell. So struggle, strife,
              so strew me, to bell with these clucking mediocrities,
 
these anxieties over such beings thirty, still smitten
              with this heaven never meant for, never heard from.
 
You’ve said we’re each pockmarked like a golf course
              with what can’t be said of us, bred in us,
 
isn’t our tasty piece of nature. But I tell you
              I’ve stars, I’ve true blue depths, have learned to use
 
the loo, the crew, the whole slough of pill-popping
              devices without you, your intelligent and pitiless graze.
 
Everyone knows love is just a euphemism
              for you’ve failed me anyway. So screw me.
 
Bartering Yam, regardless of want I’m nothing
              without scope, hope, nothing
 
without your possibility. So let’s laugh
              like the thieves we are together, the sieves:
 
you, my janus gate, my Sigmund Fraud,
              my crawling, crack-crazed street sprawled out,
 
revisible, spell-bound.
              Hello, joy. I’m thirsty. I’m Pasty Rectum.
 
In your absence I’ve learned to fill myself
              with starts. Here’s my paters. Here’s my blue.
 
I just wanted to write again and say
              how much I’ve failed you.

Paisley Rekdal, "Dear Lacuna, Dear Lard:" from The Invention of the Kaleidoscope. Copyright © 2007 by Paisley Rekdal.  Reprinted by permission of University of Pittsburgh Press.

Source: Poetry (November 2004).

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This poem originally appeared in the November 2004 issue of Poetry magazine

November 2004
 Paisley  Rekdal

Biography

Rekdal grew up in Seattle, Washington, the daughter of a Chinese American mother and a Norwegian father. She earned a BA from the University of Washington, an MA from the University of Toronto Centre for Medieval Studies, and an MFA from the University of Michigan, Ann Arbor. She is the author of the poetry collections A Crash of Rhinos (2000), Six Girls Without Pants (2002), and The Invention of the Kaleidoscope (2007) as well . . .

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Poem Categorization

SUBJECT Living, Disappointment & Failure, Relationships, Love, Arts & Sciences, Humor & Satire

POET’S REGION U.S., Southwestern

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