Two Poems

Notes on Vanishing

My proud parts and I come in from the street
with a pouch of honeycandy to suck. Unpocket

the lot—even a clutch of unraveling wire
(the remains of an erstwhile occasion).

These mischievous folds won’t come undone.
Instead of a long bright cat uncurling before you

I’m somebody’s old aunt, laboring out of her dress.
In the dark heat, the sugar’s lost its shape.

I’m stone to stone with you: cocked in the trappings
of the wood. Undressing, undressing, the faces

of my figure throw their clothes on the floor.
Though I’ll see some things not meant for me,

Remember foul, felled loveliness
how you were adored.

The dream was worn.
She had shown

too much of herself—
prone

in fluorescent light.
How will she

peel back her own
catching veneer

as the young doctor
tremoring

in his newness
peels the skin

from his cadavers
or the straps of her gown tonight?