What Rough Beast | Poem for November 2, 2018

Margo Davis
Disappeared

Their glances dart
then return for one of us. Smart
men, quick, who see through
an imperfection. We draw them in
with a limp, stray eye, weak limb
on an otherwise lean

body whose ill-fitting
clothing camouflage our worth.
These men with x-ray

hunger move right in.
Who doesn’t need to be
wanted? Sought out by men

wanted too, by many,
for many things. Mysterious men
with nothing to lose. They know

women want spotless union.
Wanted men courting the less-than’s.
Acne? Come on in.

Orphaned? Feel at home
in an embrace, firm, unflinching.
There’s no going back

after headiness erases
reflection and warmth disarms
our stretch. We snuggle,

feeling safe, before we
comprehend we cannot alter
what will soon alter us.

They will stain us
in unexpected ways as we give
up, give in, loosening

a gloomy heart, liver,
functioning kidney. These men
market essential parts.



Margo‘s more recent poems have appeared in The Fourth River, Ekphrastic Review, Misfit, and Light, and the Houston Chronicle (Fall). Recent anthology publications include Enchantment of the Ordinary (December), Of Burgers and Ballrooms, Untameable City, numerous Texas Poetry Calendars, and Echoes of the Cordillera. A Pushcart nominee awash in Republican mindsets, Margo thrives on closely observing film, photos, and natural settings. She’s known for eavesdropping.

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