Julianne Buchsbaum

Folie à Deux

A dog lies at his feet as he looks into
his manual and says,
“A person reduced to his worst elements

makes a fascinating subject.” He refers
to his model with her back
against the wall. In the flat that he has

exiled them to, he is his monster,
he his eaten. Her eyes
are those of a hawk, sharp and unself-conscious.

It is an eclipse of the world:
his ribs
stick out like the bars of a grill.

Everything in the room seems to flow
into everything else:
the dog curling its tail on the orange rug,

the wooden bureau, his black boots,
the smears of green paint
all over the place. He considers the canvas

and rearranges it completely. She sits
like a mound of clay
in shades of grisaille. For there is no way

to confute this swimming iridescence.
His hatband is red.
There is red in her lips and in the handles

of the bureau that contains what few rags
they own. He never
stands still; there is electricity in the air,

a happy éclat. Even at day’s zenith,
the patina is so thick,
nothing real can break through.

JULIANNE BUCHSBAUM is a recipient of a Paul Engle Fellowship. Her first book, Slowly, Slowly, Horses, was published by Ausable Press.

“Folie à Deux” appears in our Summer 2001 issue.

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