Thank you, Jewel. No need to buy anything. Now that it's published, I'll post it:
Under Minks
On winter nights the guests would park their cars
along the darkened cul de sac like stones
around a fire, and wrapped in furs and scarves,
would greet my parents at the door with baritone
hellos and gifts of wine. Father would take their coats
and heap them on the bed-- a wanton pile
of cashmere, paisley silks like parachutes,
and chestnut minks whose fleshy satin linings
exhaled Shalimar, Chanel. We’d burrow in,
feeling our way among their ample pockets,
searching for answers, trying on their skins.
Like children wrapped in hides among the rocks
in ancient times, protected from the rains,
while grownups traded stories round the flames. |
