Was It Hubris

Rebecca Wolff

I wore that giant talisman
Brass Inlay
Shaker Tree of Life

Was it perfection that allowed it

found by me—I find the best things, I have such a good

eye, but my mouth, my mouth

is a “dirty whore,” accordingly, and in my mouth foul
language, craven

invitations. I lost it.

Young Man with Instrument
dirty words “dirty whore” in connection
with my mouth SWAK

your cock hitting my face

A long time ago I said “nothing
purple comes near the face” NEVER
say never

for what of this morning
glory deviating
from perfection of
inversion morning
glory of the blue? What of the

deviant from nature. Words he said was

“dirty whore”

no one ever called me that


Take offense, young
dentist: You were approaching my mouth with

called “a torch”
you were stretching my giving
lip to the limit with a gloved

index, forcing
my jaw to endurance
forcing my jaw to patience, hinge, protract

you forced me to write this kind of poem
with the viscera.