Dumb Supper
a divination game in the American south. Dogs walking backward is a sign. To summon old love, back your way into a room–he’ll follow. Turn back the hour hand to raise a haunt. Confound bad luck by circling the house, counterclockwise. Backward is magic. To foresee the man you’ll someday wed, make a supper. Wash dishes first. Set spoons for affection, a serrated edge for spark. Dark meat in the cake, molasses over tenderloin, chilled coffee, break eggs beneath the bowl and preserve the spell - keep quiet. Reverse to the table with an empty plate shiny enough to ‘scry for a spouse. Watch for his face to rise through the ceramic glaze. If he doesn't show, unlock the door. Wait for a shadow at the keyhole, a song in the chimney. Backing up the stairs, you should already be undone so you can button your dress for bed. Backward is magic. Maybe eager hands will hinder you from closing your open blouse. Maybe not. Love is backward–you hope for something. Even something perverse. Austin International Poetry Festival Anthology, 2009 |
- Intro
- Home
- Kingdom Come
- Tunnel of Love
- Exit Now
- The Passion
- Texas Education
- Dumb Supper
- Good Year
- Toys
- Saint Michael and the Devil
- Invisible Knights
- The Rain Gauge
- Ponder
- Remainder
- Green Ghost
- December 13th
- Dedication
- Prevailing Wind
- Dreamland 1911
- 10
- On the Median
- These Things Happen
- White Water
- The October People
- Scene from a Moral Panic
- Estrellita
- Another Ending
- What We're Dealing With
- How Did the Foxes Die?
- There was a Man
- Bio. and credits