Emerald Dragon Archives

Sister Josephine watches

The nun opposite fold her

Napkin first one way and

Then another then laying

It down on the table run

The edge of her hand across

To press it flat and then

Places it under the table

In a space for implements

After which she takes her

Knife fork and spoon and

Licks them clean one after

The other and place them

Under the table too a...

Sit on the stone step and

Read Mama says do not

Interrupt me while I am

Busy and Minnie looks

At the book and at the

Words and the pictures

And turns a page and

Looks at that too but

She would rather be

Playing with her dolls

Or going outside and

Running or playing with

The other children but

Mama says no the children

Are too rough and rude

And itR...

She knows he is interested

In more than her conversation

Despite the fact they talk of

Dostoyevsky and Walt Whitman

And his eyes seldom leave hers

But now and then she sees his

Eyes wander low and settle like

Greedy dogs upon her legs and

Maybe dreams of places he can’t

Go at least not yet and if he thinks

She doesn’t know and hasn’t seen

Him then he’s a ...

Even the most textbook

Looking suicide can be

Arranged and made to

Look as such, even if it

Wasn’t, says Bill to the

Young man he’s just

Fucked from across the

Hall, standing by the

Hotel window, looking

At the street below. Maybe

You’d get the hit and how

It had to look (accidents

Were choice, but needed

To be planned to the last

Iota) or ...

Let them have it between

The eyes; that scares them

Shitless, Bill says, showing

Budgen his gun, closing an

Eye, aiming playfully at young

Budgen’s head. Focuses them

Real sharp, death and nearness

Of their demise. Budgen puts

His hand on Bill’s penis, looking

Away from the gun, giving no

Thought to death, but the next

Hot fuck, the shot int...

Suicide, they said, the police when they came, he tall and thin with dark eyes and she plump with round eyes like those of cows. They have laid her on a slab, naked, except for a white shroud covering her lower body. She looks as if asleep; no signs of injury, no slit wrists, or wounds, or hanging burns around her neck; she is just as she was the last time you saw her a week or so ago wrapped up in bed, sleeping off a busy day or hectic night. Anorexic, some nurse mutters over your shoulder, ...

She’d be the one left

Out of conversations,

The onlooker, the dark

Peripheral angel, as

Father called her, always

Looking in, listening to

The talk, adding no words.

She knew the inner voices.

They spoke too frequently

To ignore. Don’t let it get

You down, one voice within

Would say, they’re just all

Too human for you to attend

To the...

Falmouth was one of

The senior boys who

Liked to boast of his

Prowess with the girls,

And would describe in

Intimate detail the inner

Workings of the female

Body and how it worked

And where they liked to

Be touched and how, and

The boys would gather

Around him eager to learn,

Some even drooling at the

Mouth and imagining that

Out there some place some

Girl was waiti...

The bell from the cloister rang. Echoed around and settled upon nun in bed cosy in blanket against morning's cold and frost. Stirred. Head raised. Eyes peered into the dawn's light, sighed, shivered, moved arms against body's length. Closed eyes. Wished for more sleep. None to have. Bell rang. Time, ladies, please. Time and tide. Stirred again. Lifted head. Sighed. Gazed at bedside table. Clock tick tock, tick tock. Moved to edge of the bed. Feet dangled. Toes wiggled. Hands joined for prayer...

It’s not often in Manhattan

In broad daylight

That you see Christ passing

Along on the sidewalk,

But the African American

Standing outside a store

Is certain it was he

Whom he saw

Go by a few moments before,

Yet why he thought so,

What made him think

It was Christ,

He couldn’t say,

It just came to him

At that moment