A PLUMBER DREAMS

Seam jointed,
flanged lady,
you flare
into my grooved sleeve
and wrench me
from my insulation.

I breathe your coppery breath,
taste the metallic sheen
of your threaded hair,
touch the cool curves
of your offsets,
elbows, and U-bends.

Sing me a torch song
or whisper,
"flush bushing,"
and I'll feel a rush
from stock line
to roof vent.

Unseal your valve.
Open your O ring.
I'm ready for
compression coupling.

--Rochelle Natt

FOLLOWING DIRECTIONS

Unroll fine linen.
Join four wooden stretchers,
checking for perfect right angles
before stapling the centers
of the wood-to-linen perimeters.

With metal grippers, proceed outward--
completing half a stretcher from the center,
then turning the canvas to tighten and staple
the opposite half, turning and stapling,
stretching until the linen is rippleless.

Prime with a coat of rabbit glue.
While it's drying, weight the stretchers
with tomes, divans, four fat buddhas.
Reprime the canvas with gesso.
The buddas will sit, lotus-style,
through the night, to insure a perfect rectangle.

"Ohm, ohm, ohm," the buddhas chant while the stretchers
yawn and creak. "Ohm, ohm," the force
rises up, bellowing the fire of their voices.
Four dirty bowing beggars enter, set alms bowls
at the feet of the buddhas and prostrate themselves
on the drying gesso, leaving threads from tattered loin cloths.

In the morning, sand down the canvas with fine-toothed paper,
eliminating all sense of warp and weft,
lint, rump and knee prints
so viewers will believe.
Now begin your feeble spatterings.

--Rochelle Natt