STEALTHLY, A THROWBACK MOVES FORWARD

She was
a white-gloved
street whore;
Picasso's mistress,
Isadora's partner,
Baudelaire's muse,
a lower east side
gutter hugger
when there was
a lower east side
to fight the chill
inside a world
full of spoons
& white cotton.
Now she fights
off dementia &
boils by forming
words in a darkness
of her own making
& singing to lights
of her own choosing.
She's pulp
in all its
glory.

Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2017

STAYING FUCKED

Cinderella has swollen feet.
She slouches
next to me
waiting
for her corns
& callous'
& bunions
to be cut
or dug out.
A frog's tongue
whispers
in her ear.
Her prince
dines on Mulligan Stew
on Macdougal Street
readying himself for
his evening's grate.
Buses & trains
are listless. Smoke
snakes from sewers. Cabs
poke their yellow noses
through steam.
I've waited in the rain
for Isadora Duncan
to dance on useless ankles
but tickets
are scarce.
Graves litter
a wormless earth.

My girl arrived.
She will save
her complaints
for Sunday.
We will have
our small tortures
at the right moment.
The night
is within reach
& hope
is stupid.

Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2016