Deborah Levy - An Amorous Discourse in the Suburbs of Hell

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 yesterdays 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 Im dreaming of a white Christmas

A little garden

Someone to love

Enough to get by

I can speak French

You cant

I can make shelves

And a wardrobe

With mirrored doors

You cant

If I were more ambitious

I could build a sturdy bridge

But I dont 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 dont want provenal dinners from your freezer

i want delirium from under the lake

bang! bang!

watch out stanley

im not just unhappy

im 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 cant afford rhapsody

I was born in Hurstpierpoint

My dad sucks lemon jellies

she

then you shouldnt 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

Lets 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

to the currywurst wagon in Friedrichstrae

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

its 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 englands 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 Ive grown up

My shirts do not

Scream and

Beckon and

I own

A water filter

she

worms

worms

worms

in the water

filter or not

there are serpents in paradise

this eden you murdered your discontent to own

oh kiss me quick

im fading away

its all this malice

eating at my angelic contours

save me

He

Let me massage you with flower essence

Let me fry you sardines

Let me kiss your cuts and scratches better

Let me plait your saffron hair

Wings stretched East

To West and West to

East, I welcome the

Gift of your arrival

I think I have been

Waiting all my life

To try out the best

Parts of myself

Touch me.

she

my wings are tinged

with blush

beware

when i weep

theres no stopping

this stuff

pouring

from the circles

of my soul

and i observe

that my cheeks

now itch with bumps

and welts

i think

its

pollution

He

I need a woman

To live for

Play the piano to

Cook and have babies with

Share a bed

An address

To measure the sum of my self against