Deborah Levy
An Amorous Discourse in the Suburbs of Hell
Part One
He
There you are
All wonderful and winged and leaking
That smile
Let me in
Want to
Walk through snow storms
Burning for you
Peeling oranges for you
Shimmering and
Shivering my
Assured
Modern
Woman
Who are you
Anyway?
she
i have come
to save you
from the suburbs of hell
to rub my skin
against
the regularity of your habits
to bend your thoughts
like a spoon
to find your memories
lost in software
dived like a thought
out of paradise
into
your acrylic arms
He
Uninvited
You flew into
My semi
And ate all my daffodils
I woke up
To your
Starry tattoos
Fingers
Tangled
In your hair
I asked
You
To stay
Now you make
Incense
From my heart
And liver
Spit
Mean small
Feathers
At my good intentions
she
good intentions
are there
to be ruined
look at the tear stains on your tie
newlyweds
wear a band of gold
full of good intentions
look how they jitter and panic
when the bus stops to change drivers
at the junction between lidl and chicken cottage
He
No wonder you
Fell
From Grace
Into
My poor lap
Fearful pigeons
Scurry about the roof
Ever since you arrived
she
ever since i arrived
on your blue planet
most of it ocean
i hear the breath of an octopus
bigger than a car
eggs in her arms
calling for you
ever since i arrived
i hear the historic echo of yesterday’s lambs
under the tarmac of the ring road
baaing and frolicking for you
ever since i arrived
you walk from the table to the window ledge
cursing the pigeons on your roof
their ragged wings
opening and closing for you
He
How your ragged wings
Open and close
And tell me what to dream
I am my own dreamer
And I’m dreaming of a white Christmas
A little garden
Someone to love
Enough to get by
I can speak French
You can’t
I can make shelves
And a wardrobe
With mirrored doors
You can’t
If I were more ambitious
I could build a sturdy bridge
But I don’t need the acclaim
she
yes you can speak french
you read recipe books
as if they were sonnets
yes your wardrobe door
slides on its aluminium runner
yes your shoes have blind eyelets
fastened with coated laces
yet you got hauntings in your eyes
i saw your schoolboy bible
tucked in a corner
you have an uneasy relationship with god
could be interesting
be interesting
be interesting then
spread your hands towards the sky
ask Him in his mercy
to hear your uneasy love
there is no other kind of love
there is no easy kind of love
i don’t want provençal dinners from your freezer
i want delirium from under the lake
bang! bang!
watch out stanley
i’m not just unhappy
i’m trigger unhappy
watch the curve of my arm
the sun melt
into the tips
of my fingers
the trees
bending and bowing
He
Look
I can’t afford rhapsody
I was born in Hurstpierpoint
My dad sucks lemon jellies
she
then you shouldn’t mess about
with an angel
especially one that has been
washed up
on the oil sluck beaches
of yr shores belly
heaving with the smaller
bellies of fish and birds
find someone sweeter
(unaccustomed to terror)
to laugh at your jokes
He
Let’s get a takeaway. Listen
To the rain
Fill holes.
she
suburb man you are cold and unbothered
unlock your front door
the yale and chubb and the chain
take off your shoes
let my wings lift you
to skyscrapers and cornfields
to outraged sons and daughters
to the ferry boat on the 黄浦江
to the currywurst wagon in Friedrichstraße
to the North East SuperFast Express (Delhi-Mughal Sarai-Guwahati)
take off your shoes
take off your shoes
dance on a nervous scorpion
dance on the eyelash of a bull
dance on the edge of an oar
unlock your front door
the yale and chubb and the chain
He
These shoes (size 10, 44 in Europe)
Are for walking in parks, tea
And toast
Afterwards.
Forgive me.
Courage not there.
Sucked by wear and tear
Of 9 to 5 & blocked drains
Eyes are closing.
she
die die die of safety
your failing pension plan
a shroud of blind snails
searching for the last green leaf in eden
He
You are beginning to bore me
Bile and gloom tucked
Tight into your incandescent
Cleavage. I would
Rather watch
T.V.
she
it’s true i have these moods.
i might just
fall
into
despair
and singe the carpet
with the heat of my wings
and then
how
will you
console
me?
i wander around your suburbs in a haze
you fit so well into the seats
of england’s expensive trains
i find that when those passengers
who work in financial services
gaze at the back of my head
my garments cease to glisten with light
all my languages desert me
the vibrations of the universe
freeze in the knuckle of my sixth finger
today i will dive under the high-res screen of your smart phone
float in the galaxy of samsung
swim through blue tooth and back to ask you
what in essence is an angel?
she is a messenger, mediator, watcher and warner
only trouble is
desolation
numbs
the memory
who was my mother
who was my father
how long have i been falling
is god dead?
am i sick
or have i health?
He
My health was perfect
Until you fell
On my head and pressed
Your lips of mist and ice
To mine
You burnt my tongue
You make me nervous
I have a little worldliness
At university
I hennaed my hair
My mother said, only
Whores do that
I wore beads
And had an existential
Girlfriend in a kilt
But now I’ve grown up
My shirts do not