THE SWISS-AMERICAN HOTEL: A Morning Song

Dishwater-blonde, naturally curly, The giant chrysanthemum nods In the windless light under the sheet On my flesh unwrapped in this tent And on loan its grey-shadowed lumpings. Making its own dips and hillocks

ING

And dismantling its own cool sky

With undressed feet falling over the mattress' edge And untucking its horizon.

And I want to be able to give, take from me now:

That countryside of me which I could always withhold

And never rule.

Take it all apart

Like the Christmas toy meant to be shattered before noon And put it back together

With your spit and your thumbs

Like the magical watch repairman

Who can juggle all the exploded pieces in his mouth And pluck a whole clock again out of his cheek Made new and keeping good time.

one

-Gail Chugg