Bougerie

bougerie bougerie where are you now
saddling a piggy or riding a cow
heaving like oxen or stiff as a stork
hung for a cock that dances on air
or creamed like a scone reddened with jam
round as tyre rubbered and wet
soft as a pussycat purring and stroked
slowly dissolving exhausted as snow

she sang her little sex song quietly to herself
as she powdered afore the boudoir mirror

now which dress ?
short for seduce, long for allure
she shuffles her charity shop bargains
the hangers swaying obstinate
like awkward children
out rayon - the naphtha of the nineties -
nor chic silk - the seventies semtex -
denim deconstruction - no way
no it has to be the 1950's poodle skirt in powder blue
and the short mauve-pink tank top
she has what older women describe as an hour glass figure
a figure with a few minutes more
than the true connoisseur would consider faithful to perfect time
but she has bosom
"its cleavage that counts"
her mother warbles warmly, covetously, as Katie matures
from brace toothed kid to papfull puberty
Katie is Carol's assistant
hair shining darkly
shining brightly darkly behind the effulgent media sparkle
that the somewhat more mature Carol brings to every party
[Carol would rather be at home nursing her cancerous mother]
Katie is Carol's poodle
"stroke my curly hair with patronising platitudes
or tell me off for crapping on the mediocre flowers of literature
that wander slovenly or sobbing through the office
their ofttimes hefty manuscripts a full of the dross of romance
and the rubbish of affabulation"
Katie begs

tonight is party night, its friday
she has her poodle frock and her method - but shoes - oh fuck
no shoes - she rings round and arranges to borrow some !
all ironed, then out she goes to play
in years gone by Katie would be
the maid in waiting
or maybe the sticking pig in heathen woods
but this is now and she's a publishing assistant
she can write
and this is a page drawn from her book
the book of this same day at this very party

Katies book ... some pages in :-

"where hides your musky succulence my pretty girl"
nothing adorns him except perhaps success
his agate sized ego, eager in its underpants
alert like a fox near dawn
if I says no he'll prance blithely off
he really doesn't seem to care
this is his story :-

In the not long ago and within living memory
he had a wife - Holly
not his own but somebody else's
he didn't need a wife to keep
as he knew this to be an expensive sort of hobby
as a boy he was that son specialising in stamp collecting
or some other glasses occupation like endless maths or counting
or upsetting unwanting listeners with his half-sized violin solo
but wifes unlike stamps are not for keeps
he had grown to be somewhat debonair
a mockery of that portly bespectacled squid
in his school picture gawping from the window sill

"it would be nice to accompany an elegant partner for a change"
Holly drooled slyly down the phone
we can all see her crooked little lips wording it
thin and twisted, malicious
all a whiles wriggling in her panties
his name was Eddie
her husband George was supposed on some business abroad
but in reality they probably hated each other in bed
maybe he was queer and they had some tacit agreement
we find out the reality somewhat too late

she always drove round to pick Eddie up
her car was swish, she was swish
fit and handsome in a brutal older sort of way
she and Eddie were both moneyed
except that when she spoke her voice rasped of it
like bank notes rubbed together
he was all mellifluous and drawl
yes ... sadly he was American
a young monk in London's banking sector
prairie to priory

I had to have him
and i had the swish advantage that a blue poodle skirt
can bring upon an American - nostalgia
for those Yanks have no history except their own uncouth lives
loud cheques shouting back from the vast dry Dakota plains
round through Indianan Falls Creek gorge
to southern Texicana and San Antonio's canals
Eddie i have to have you
I swish my long dark curls and run my fingers through them
from my neck toward my ear lobes stopping to fleetingly fondle
the small diamonds adorning
any man should know this sign
Holly's eyes hiss
Carol ushers me away
"come and meet Marlena she's from Ecuador"
"on some skipping pretext maybe or hula hoops"
they import pineapples

later i make excuses and coincide my journey to the lou
with that of Eddie
i smartly hand him my card its email underlined
he knows
hes like a fox
they steal out at night and eat the childbirth of sheep
its then you shoot them

he male, he emails
female she mails
they designate a meet
they eat
hes sweet, discreet
they take a cab, his street

his hands run over her body like thick gravy dwelling
air sucked in a gasping
as sure as silver forks implode the skin at dinning time
her eyes slide off loose as silk
as do her clothes
and she is bound for nowhere somewhere else
that new mistress
that boundless Catherine
her escapist animal writhing somewhere
midden among the very outreaches of humanity
her poseurs beret discard
and her strapless taffeta a crumpled
ruched fallen wanton
and her teasing pouting yearning ploys all lost
in surface pleasure eyes a glaze and wild
escapist beast undone
he could not bear to love without Katie
she muses in her wild pleasure place
he counted money
and as usury he knew the composition of these things
dispassionate as beautiful as faith
as kisses circlets rush into their mouths
and palettes burning take their sweet slobbering all
the filling in the apple pie that soft centre heady musky
her darkness curls around its spoon
for she is gone somewhere one cannot touch
and in her strangely isolated lonely quest
she calls and he must stop and hold her
and hold her tears
tears that in an instant cupped
fall heaven down upon his palm
and in its glass
the sauvignon and salve of womanhood

so the seasons roll
and this scene is much the same
and as for going forward - well one day
a knock at the door
Holly bursts in a flurry of animal nails and tears
the palaver of a woman jilted
well not quite
it turns out Eddie still sees her from time to time
she lets them have it all
and then to Katie
the bit she did not know
Holly's hubby has motor neurone
her escapist visions slowly fade away
with Katie's scattered clothes
she cries she cries a lot
Katie leaves
but she takes a present with her

Katie's book ... many pages on :-

the world seems like a scary place when you are all screwed up
and the rain this season doesn’t taste as good
i’ve noticed trees come down to meet the dirt
the spring birds sing songsung are all some songs disaster notes
their throddle voices blaze full with shrill despair
pleading the whistled air

I understand that my word wont necessarily tremor in someone else's hand
and among the globules in my head
there is a soft slow almost transparent hum
pills assure safety
from its drone
the drone of people in numbers and multiplying smiles
side a side a thousand trivial miles

I feel lately one hearted and that heart is not mine
my soul is vacant like a hollow trunk
shot through with lichen and decay
blackbirds from its tump dip and strut
their songs branch out
and in their orange throats burst forth
"where flourishes the moonbeam ?"
my heart won’t open without love
dark shadows shine in moonlight
but in my heart absolute night a fell
darkness toll your warning bell

I can smell the grass and it reeks of semen
but I dare not step on it I dare not travel
dry throat and a lump in my belly
his baby grows and pains the world around its canal
it is transverse, the cable round its neck
it will both die at birth yet then live
and i have this premonition same
palsy is its name

why does the beauty of the world not encompass me
into its slow branches
a child may remind me we are all human
when small revelations are among the revolutions
of the earth
and lines of fortune etched discreetly on its face
through which destiny and malice chase

were back in real time - no longer in Katies book
Carol can no longer support an assistant with a disabled baby
she needs a party girl
there ain't much redundancy
for thats the way its worked
[Carol nagged by her cantankerous mother into some semblance of humanity]
a life tied to a cerebral child
but strangely there comes joy
so much joy
alone with motherhood
a mere child supporting you, you can spin upon its whims
whence small revelations are among the revolutions
of the earth

About…

Bougerie

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