by Sarah Guinevere Smit

I.
It’s not that Foucault’s archaeology of knowledge is wrong in fact
I think he said some gorgeous things in there it’s just that
While others have said the same thing too, he said it
Like that, and of course we have a taste for it
His prose, I mean,
The way we’re all somewhat raised sucking discarded
Wine corks, sampling the difference between red and white
If not merlot and cab sauv by the age of three
And mostly not on the taste of ecstasy rubbed along our gums
Because while Foucault said the world is an “infinite domain of things”
You said “we need to move to Kommetjie and start biodynamic farming”
And in my heart I felt those phrases the same way
Like a dictionary of fables defining Seraph and Self
Spinning Jenny SEE: Jenny

II.
I’d probably have loved you forever if you let me, I guess I
Could only feign aloof so long before I really went crazy
Breathing the base lexical semantic moans and whimpers you reduced me to
Spinning wildly, see: Wildly when you held my head in your breasts
And just, now, I’m not a statue or fortress anymore but a girl, at last
A mess, a wreck, and a woman whose cock fluttered at the thought of you
Remembering the way it felt to be touched or kissed or held by you
In the doorway just like that
As if it always were so
Leftn’t anything behind on Saturday but two or three souvenirs all bodily perfumed and
Fragrance so sweet that I sleep beside them every night knowing
It might never be how we want