The third autobiographical poem actually
results from a trip to Florida, where I met--
after reading-- I think I'm not sure
whether she was American or an English lady.
"Florida."
"Not one poem about an animal, she
said, in five, six volumes of poetry,
not one about The Peaceable Kingdom.
An accusation.
Was she from the RSPCA?
Your contemporaries have all composed inspired elegies
for expired beasts.
Told of salmon flinging themselves
up the sheer waterfall.
Cold crows in black rages, loitering near motorways.
Parables of foxes and pheasants, owls and voles, mice and moles,
Cats, bats, pigs, pugs, snails, quails.
So why can't you write one, just one haiku?
Oh, I said.
Oh!
Then wondered if she knew the story of the starving dowager.
The lady looked as solemn as No.
Well, during the French Revolution,
the dowager, becoming thinner and thinner,
invited other lean aristocrats to dinner.
That night the guests all, I continued, slowly roasting on
a rotating spit, the dowager's own poodle, Fido,
who proved to be most succulent.
So they made a feast of it.
Afterwards, the dowager sighed, fingering the pearls
about her neck, sighed and said in noble French,
I translate, what a damn shame Fido
isn't alive to eat up all those nice crunchy bones left
upon the plate.
My story over, I waited for applause.
We'd never cease from crying, she said,
if one insect could relate its misery.
Quite, I said, looking at my paws.
In Florida, I saw a floating logs change and chase
and swallow up a barking dog.
Hell, I said, an alligator?
A museum snake, too, in Gainesville, Murder City,
I can't forget poor black priapus in an empty case
lifting up its head for food not there.
With your gift I'd make a poem out of that.
So try, she said, do try and write a creature poem and call
it 'Florida.'
I closed my eyes, and she receded.
I thought of tigers and of Blake.
I thought of Fido and his bones.
No, no, she cried, think of Florida.
I saw the hotels in Miami Beach.
I heard waves collapsing ceaselessly.
No, no, she said, think again, think of Florida, its creature
kingdom.
Like a TV screen, my imagination lit up
to startle the ghost of Blake with my own eidetic ads
for Florida.
First, that black frustrated snake erect.
Then, two grapefruit inside a brassiere.
Open your eyes, the lady screamed, wake up.
I'm a poor bifurcated animal, I apologized.
Eagle beagle, bug grub, boar bear."
[APPLAUSE]