Posts Tagged: Stephen Burt
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Two Poems By Stephen Burt

Belmont Overture (Poem of Eight A.M.) It’s about settling down and settling in           and trying not to settle for,

about three miles from the urban core,           where the not-quite-wild bald turkey, looking so lost

and inquisitive next to the stop for the 74,           peers into the roseless rosebush, up at the pointless oar

hung above one townhouse’s swept steps, and the U.S.           and floral and nautical flags flaunt their calm semaphore.

Walking past them, today, with our stroller, we note as we pass           the wreath of real twigs on our next-door neighbor’s door

and beside it another, not sold in any store,           made of pipecleaners and plastic oak leaves. [...]

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A Poem By Stephen Burt

A Crime at Pattaya

          The following year, in a highly publicized case, four transvestites (one a transsexual)           robbed a Hong Kong businessman and others by first inducing their victims to suck           on their nipples, which had been coated with a tranquilizer.                     —Holly Brubach, Girlfriends: Men, Women, and Drag

I would do it again. I felt paradoxically adult— each chevron on each wave on that warm ocean pointing backwards and up the pale twist in the shadow below concrete stairs. I was led by my wrist. There was a great oval mirror, the hush of a closing door, two earrings unhooked and a square plastic bottle of lotion.