Tresha Faye Haefner | Taking Off B.C.'s Clothes
(In Response to Billy Collins’ “Taking Off Emily Dickinson’s Clothes”)
You feel a little special and a little sad.
How lonely all the poets are. And not even poetry
can cure that kind of loneliness, of men
who are in love with women
who are dead.
You remove your own clothes. Tell truths nakedly
as you take off his shoes. His hazelnut colored socks.
The Argyle patterned ideas he’s been storing
in his ankles. For a while you tell him his toes
are frigates. His calves sestinas. You say you want
to write sonnets on his back with your tongue.
But eventually you grow tired of imagining
clever language. Skipping stones across a lake
so beautiful it must be villainous.
You sink into the regular music of the body, coming
into contact with another body. The mixture
of adoration and revulsion, even among lovers.
It is, in a way, everything you’d thought it would be.
Under the tweed jacket, another tweed jacket.
Under the bald spot another spot where hair will not grow.
The belly growing soft as poached eggs.
The hairs and freckles and intimate
constellation of moles. And when you remove his belt
a predictable fluttering
of birds. And the sound of a rusting hook.
A cage, swinging.
Weightless, and empty.
The lone branch sticking out, naked
where you imagined
all the birds would be.
You feel a little special and a little sad.
How lonely all the poets are. And not even poetry
can cure that kind of loneliness, of men
who are in love with women
who are dead.
You remove your own clothes. Tell truths nakedly
as you take off his shoes. His hazelnut colored socks.
The Argyle patterned ideas he’s been storing
in his ankles. For a while you tell him his toes
are frigates. His calves sestinas. You say you want
to write sonnets on his back with your tongue.
But eventually you grow tired of imagining
clever language. Skipping stones across a lake
so beautiful it must be villainous.
You sink into the regular music of the body, coming
into contact with another body. The mixture
of adoration and revulsion, even among lovers.
It is, in a way, everything you’d thought it would be.
Under the tweed jacket, another tweed jacket.
Under the bald spot another spot where hair will not grow.
The belly growing soft as poached eggs.
The hairs and freckles and intimate
constellation of moles. And when you remove his belt
a predictable fluttering
of birds. And the sound of a rusting hook.
A cage, swinging.
Weightless, and empty.
The lone branch sticking out, naked
where you imagined
all the birds would be.
Tresha Faye Haefner’s poetry appears, or is forthcoming in several journals and magazines, most notably Blood Lotus, Blue Mesa Review, The Cincinnati Review, Five South, Hunger Mountain, Mid-America Review, Pirene’s Fountain, Poet Lore, Prairie Schooner, Radar, Rattle, TinderBox and Up the Staircase Quarterly. Her work has garnered several accolades, including the 2011 Robert and Adele Schiff Poetry Prize, and a 2012, 2020, and 2021 nomination for a Pushcart. Her first manuscript, "Pleasures of the Bear" was a finalist for prizes from both Moon City Press and Glass Lyre Press. It was published by Pine Row Press under the title When the Moon Had Antlers in 2023. Find her at www.thepoetrysalon.com.
Matthew Fertel is a Sacramento-based photographer who has worked in the Photography department at Sierra College since 2004. Before that, he was a fine art auction house catalog photographer in San Francisco for over 10 years.
Matthew's current work focuses on capturing the minutiae he encounters in his daily life. He seeks to expose the hidden beauty in the everyday objects that make up the landscape of our existence. Going to the same locations over days, months and years allows him to capture images under different lighting and weather conditions, and to see objects change over long or short periods of time. There is art hidden everywhere if you learn to see it.
Learn more at his website and on Instagram.
Matthew's current work focuses on capturing the minutiae he encounters in his daily life. He seeks to expose the hidden beauty in the everyday objects that make up the landscape of our existence. Going to the same locations over days, months and years allows him to capture images under different lighting and weather conditions, and to see objects change over long or short periods of time. There is art hidden everywhere if you learn to see it.
Learn more at his website and on Instagram.