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The 2River View 15.4 (Summer 2011)
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David Kutz-Marks

Fete

They were scheduled for an intimate appearance
in his red front parlor, but they were not there.

This was typical behavior,
the nonet breathing heavily so many leagues away,

a cloud coming into him, the stench of their dresses,
the hue of their hair.

And he knew that the sudden jag of laughter
meant a set was over, in some other bald man's

red front parlor they were finally undressing themselves
in a manner of saying

quick, come with us, we will show you.
And he loved them and he loved them

and he held out his hand and he held out his hand
and the oldest crone kissed the one hand

and the cloud kissed the other,
it didn't matter which or what their names were,

only the crones were worth caring for.
It was like leaving a body

and feeling that you had not been there,
or not long enough for a real conversation.

The Cantons

Well I saw the vestige of cicada on cicada as I walked.
Well I heard the rumor of the use of rumor meaning

something smooth, innocuous as shots of ether.
What did you taste? I tasted a wafer-thin metal bit

black as night owing to the oil it was covered with.
It was night and black as night but I was not at all tired

I tapped my good needle back into my vein
and music was hissing its climb at the last little ridge

in the city I walked in and skipping back into the valley
ad vitam. And how did you feel then?

Then I felt the fingers of my flush right hand
called up to the sudden drone of bodies above me.

David Kutz-Marks holds an MFA from Columbia University. Recent work appears or is forthcoming in Kenyon Review Online, Ozone Park Journal, Tryst, and elsewhere. Kutz-Marks lives in Dunmore, Pennsylvania, and teaches at King's College and Marywood University. contact

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