Tiberius
I kept my bathing suit on through dinner.
After a day of nothing,
pretending to read, waiting for a man to touch me.
I lay motionless.
The electric fan making the room noisy,
blowing around all those drafts,
drafts in which the lover is transformed
into an animal.
The sun got high.
Goats named after Roman emperors
ate from my hand.
Shoeless in rows of shrubs
in an absolutist garden.
The season was ending.
I was alone. My odor was like a fern’s.
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