I. Gluttony
The appetite of dragonflies, insatiable hunger for sex and meat. Appetites as frenzied as
Cockroach whiskers, he says,
Myriad screaming parakeets.
This raw hunger,
Chill power.
These raw hungers that stain the world in blood. Both in our entrance and our leaving.
Vertebrates of dead beasts.
II. Envy
I wish. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
One-eyed song, he says.
Dante would have me completely blinded. By all you have. By all I lack.
She says
Sleepless
Reproach
Dead
Melodies
I am Aglauros– become stone.
III. Wrath
In my dream he murders the train passenger who witnesses his theft of a bottle of champagne. I try to catch the passenger’s eyes to warn him.
Confessions of wintery steam.
He’d kill me for a gold sovereign even after all these years.
Flaming years.
You get so you recognize the ones wild with anger,
Heart ashamed of heart,
Prefer them to those broken by grief.
Hour of blood obscured by dust.
IV. Deadly Sin: Lust
Flowering plum trees bring to my attention an emptiness that is not hunger. Even blind in my cave I can smell the blossoms. Even blind inside my cave I can hear seed spilling. There in the dark surrounded by stalactites and stalagmites,
Cathedrals of crystal,
I can hear their burrowing roots. Nearby the thaw begins,
Ice rustling under bridges,
Vernal ice,
Divine ice,
Spring ice.
V. Avarice
I want it all,
Yellow-eyed and scowling.
Enough is not a real word in America,
Decaying flute, mourning clarinet.
Shameless
Mummers
Thoughtless
Vestige.
VI. Pride
That. Is all I left behind me and all I have before me—the work of my hands. Forget the Godhead. He didn’t get it right. But look, just look at my work.
She says
Monstrous
She says
Threshold
He says, Like snarled stockings.
VII. Diffidence
A little overweight. Somewhat intelligent. A trifle nearsighted. Sometimes kind. Never enough. Always hedging. Girdled by hesitance.
Rough staircases,
Resinous tears,
Dungeon of the world
She said
Languor.
