Speech is Designed to Persuade

I

Here we are, my dear, so near we could touch

if touch were what was wanted. A pleasant event

accruing. A view into leaves will move the mind

back slightly. Dunderheaded hindrances.

They kept us apart. Is this what you meant

to have happened? I have taken up bad habits

in your absence. I have taken the tablets

you left on the dresser. I have dressed myself

in feathers fit for flight. I am flight but did not not melt

as some do when they try too hard to fly. A fraction

of four is only saying a small thing oddly.

II

Fine then, they said, let the tree be Knowledge. Let the leaf

be Nature. Let the dog take a name we give it — Pupper.

Let the string be knotted on its linear axis.

And now the sun comes up. The machinery hum

of a pheasant flutter. They were galled by the gift

of a clock, its inconsistent clatter. They looked over a book

of prints taken from frescoes, decorative specimens.

Smitten, relaxed, they took a shower, using only a cup

of water. Uppermost was bliss’s peculiarity.

Six was a cipher, although didn’t they eagerly agree

to let numbers mean nothing?

III

Eventually the text began to explain itself.

Written out, the code was easier to decipher.

They devised a strategy, frequent division,

occasional subtraction. One fragment kissed another.

A sexual innuendo of sorts. Distance was not kind.

They understood the adage that omissions can be cruel

so a system of substitution was concocted. A three was used

to connote a blank space. A blanket was thrown

over the bed but only because it was very, very cold.

It was all in an evening’s amusement.

All a moment’s distraction.

IV

Now then, she said, come closer. He allowed her

so little. And she made do. That can be said in her favor.

She was his favorite. He said so.

She dragged her nails along the surface soundless.

No abominable chalkboard emanation. In the quiet,

a clock. A dog scratching resignedly at a door.

That night she dreamed she lived in a laundry

where everything came clean. She was all

she was going to mean. Let touch be a time-tested image.

Let speech be designed to persuade. Let fragments hold a space.

Let the bell for waking keep breaking in.

Mary Jo Bang