Lilith As A Babe

Margo Berdeshevsky

A gashed boat, on a fierce rock ice-slope.
The night-birds, strangled. The light, unrepentant.

I'm not sorry.    I'm not sorry.    I'm not sorry.


Night's hand hot mad-gladdens your
sleeping. For a good time call Lily.

Scavenge-sweeting. Insect — her. Howling.
Tongue-fiddler.    Teaser.    Dearest.


You lookin' good fo' yo' age,
the street women approve of me.

Naked as a shaman's cape. Hungry.
Being a babe.    I'm not sorry. I'm not sorry.

For all old love.    For all old men.
You were my howling-space. Wing and freefall.

What prayer was of use,
making me of skin?