Robert Beveridge
Selected Poems
In the Beginning
[note: voice 2 [italic] is feminine, voice 3 [bold] is masculine, preferably both with a slight British accent. The male voice is slightly softer than the female. Voice 1 should be as sex-neutral as possible. Where pauses are not explicitly indicated, the indentations should serve as cues for when each voice should speak.]
I
In the beginning was the word.
It would seem to me
we have at least something in common—
something
In common, yes.
A certain feeling for our work.
I don't
know how much longer
a certain feeling
I can
Take this.
In the beginning was the word.
A certain feeling.
I don't know.
I feel deflated.
sick. I had cholera
When I was five.
A feeling
of—of inflammation, if you understand.
I was very ill.
We have at least something in common—
inflammation.
In the beginning
Was the word.
As if I were against a wall
Being kissed by a man with dirty lips.
long hair and a beard.
I've been taking a lot of aspirin.
some time for my work
In the beginning was
for my fever
I'm not feeling
Too good right now.
taking a lot of aspirin.
the word.
In the beginning was the word.
For my fever.
time for my work.
I had cholera when I was
time for my work.
was the word.
II
Another six days.
And her face swelled up
Aunt Ruth
Once swallowed three quarters—
Almost a week.
like a balloon.
What happened to the other one?
a red balloon.
The other one?
swelled. The other quarter.
She used it
I didn't know cholera
to buy coffee.
next week
Made you swell.
Fresh brewed at 6:30 in the morning.
six days later
I've been taking
A lot of aspirin, and my feet
she drank it a lot.
Have been receding.
She ate flies when she was
I had cholera
younger.
when I was five.
next week.
III
swell.
[five second pause]
I can fix that, you know.
IV
In the beginning was
and I don't understand
It's nothing, really
why someone I'm attracted to
the word. In the
Just a spot
Could make me feel so
beginning was the
Sexual.
of fever. A few aspirin
word.
I mean, I feel
In the
should clear it up.
warm, motherly
beginning
towards this man.
was the word. In
At the same time,
Nothing, really.
the beginning
Just a touch
Of death.
he makes me feel an animal,
I reacted like
A beast.
A beast.
[short pause]
was the word.
I didn't know
how to deal with it, really.
In the beginning was the word. In the beginning was the word. In the beginning
[short pause]
was the word. In the
[short pause]
beginning was
[short pause]
the word.
Ruach
tempura fingers pluck gyoza
from the oil that bubbles
in the air around your ribs. You have
housed your candle behind
glass to protect it from the wind
that furrows the ground
outside, strips the paint
from your front steps no
matter how often, nor what
colors, you repaint them. How
much vodka is left in the icebox?
How long should you be expected
to occupy this VIP seat while
the headliner carves fjords before
you get to the photo op? Are you
in fact a VIP, or only the caterer?
You ask, but as always, are given
nothing more than silence in return.
Twitch
When we put down the stretcher
that held our yearly cheese ration—
just for a rest, mind you—the zombies
descended, groans of “camembert”
and “manchego” in the air. You,
blonde tea drinker in the coffee wilds
of Wisconsin, just mumbled “this again?”
as you pulled out the mosquito
netting, the tent poles, the stuffed shells.
Undead or no, this timpano will be made,
and our contribution will be noted,
as sure as eggs is eggs.