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Contreforts
for Anna K.

We’ve run out of licorice

Will you take off your shirt for me
will you take off your towel, your dress
that ring you’re wearing
will you take off your red turban
will you take out the sticks from your hair
will you undo the top button of your pyjamas
will you take off your pyjamas
will you slide down one stocking of your stockings
(just one)

We’ve run out of milk

Will you take off your Timothy McVeigh
sweatshirt, will you take off your
‘I was there at 911′ T-shirt, will you take off your
jaundice-colored backpack, your bandanna
will you take off your red turtleneck
will you take out the pencils from your hair
will you undo the honeybun from its wrapper
will you feed me one bite of the honeybun
(just one)

We’ve run out of oil

Will you take off your hat for me
will you take off your gloves, your scarf
your pretty nails
will you take off that sequestered look
will you take off the favor that I owe you
will you undo the table leg, stretch it
will you take out the rags from your hair
will you hand me one earring from the table
(just one)

to show me how you wore it, and the color