The ABC’s of Gift Giving
About this bracelet, copper,
Boring to anyone expecting always gold, which is a form of being
Don’t think me that sort of
Effing idiot, please—the modernist
Francisco Rebajes learned design from the Gods and I would
Grovel in front of you anytime,
Hoping for appreciation, never mind an
Intensely beribboned box
Just now handed to me while we’re
Knee to knee
Like we’re encapsulated in a very small shovel.
Man, I could groove forever,
Noticing the bracelet’s subtle complications, sculptural Cu,
Overcome that when you saw it, ambassador of the
Periodic table, its hand wrought solidity, you thought of me,
Queenly orange-brown in its patina mien,
Rebajes’ raison d’être (never mind diamonds)
Stunning me like the rays of a copper sun way past the
Time we’ve allocated for you to
Understand all it means to love me, all it means to take a spin on me with your still-
Velvet skin. It represents all things coppery, all things property:
Wealth in ancient Egypt or the pre-Columbian Americas,
Xenoliths, miners’ lives in labor history,
Years of struggle with management thugs, and call me a love junkie, a love
Zealot when I pull out all my stops, with you I’d share everything I have.
* * *
Instead of Without
are the words I need
to get out of your mouth,
during which I try to stay
on my feet, since alone,
I’m just making it. I’m beside
myself thinking about you
sprawled against me. I await
your proposition. Preposition me.
the isolation. Come on, crawl
behind my platonic retractions.
I spent too much time
under the icicle-man
across the street before I invited
you inside with a maybe.
Okay, I give,
come toward me already,
can’t you hear these thoughts?
Lie down on top of me,
so as to——and after——. Hey,
who said you can’t end with with?