“Through the wall stole a weird form who unbent

herself and stood tall.” I’ve had nbodewbi

ghosts, drunk and horny, slither like portents

to my bed before. Sex, grim and ghastly,

is all that the dead offer. Whatever

you think about lust now, that memory

will haunt you. Ghostly sex is still better

than no sex, they say. Perhaps most don’t see

it like that. Hot to leave their flesh and blood

behind they’ll grasp at any fairy tale

that says eternity is chaste. I know

how our souls refute that. These castrated

ghosts can only moan; when you’re cold and pale

come find me. You know I won’t say no.

][][

Notes:

The first line is a reworking of the beginning of George Houghton’s poem, The Witch of York, “Up o’er the hill and broken wall/ There stole a weird form, bent but tall.” In Bode’wadmi (the Potawatomi language), nbodewbi is a verb meaning drunk and horny. I think Joe Orton summed it up nicely when he said, “Enjoy sex. When you’re dead, you’ll regret not having fun with your genital organs.”