Blackbirdan online journal of literature and the artsSpring 2012 v11n1
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LAUREN GOODWIN SLAUGHTER

Welcome to Paradise
     For R.F.

1
It’s glut & the throat
bloat again on this cut

glass morning—sailclouds
jab the wavetops

as we sludge sand
still brimming

from last night’s
buffet: skewered

jumbo shrimp-&-sausage,
fried oysters, fried snapper,

the special tuna inside
mango marmalade.

Because I said I’d try,
but didn’t, the lone tentacle

O-ing from the island
of my bread plate.

2
All hospitals are named for a saint.

As Ben and I sunned, his grandmother
—barely post-stroke—ate

by the tube in her gut,
bright flowers on the shelf

on her “good side.” “Gorgeous!”

the nurse in her native gold
tone spoke Caribbean hoops.

3
The brochure read, Welcome to Paradise!

Over dinner, we tried to find decision as the sea voiced-over
           our voices

oily tiki torches illuminating
only us.                                                                       

           We found her
on the floor, who knew

how long she’d been there, her fist
a curling claw.

4
When I return from the shore, she reaches unexpectedly
for my hand.

Sweet, sweet.
Lauren, Lauren.
Good.

5
The soft-shelled crab’s shell is soft.

Evolution or greasy preparation?

Go ahead, soothe your belly
with some other armor—

devour an animal’s heart,
lick the plate clean.

6
He went back for seconds
as I tried not to think of the

mercury pool
soaking my precious

middle, me toxic
as the barnacled sponge.

Good, good.

7
St. Vincent is filled with skepticism.

His halo is a mechanical
scoop glowing metal 

used just to dig the damn thing out.

As a rule, intact eyeballs
on roasted whole fish

are what saveurs spoon
first—

8
The distant palm trees shrivel.

We stop
before a 10ish boy who wants to show us

his capture: jellyfish
clumped in a yellow castle pail.

“Each one has three separate bodies,”

he brags, the visored heads
of his parents beaming behind him.

“Beautiful,” I go

“But dangerous,” he corrects,
glancing back to the faces.

9
The button to lift
her bed up

and see the whole arrangement

is marked with a peeling-down
sticker.

10
Afforded me  . . .                                                           

           —she starts, unstuck now

           as the eye & the ocean

           narrows & swells—

                       . . .  You have afforded me great pleasure.

The room fills with silence,
with room for nothing else.    


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