IV. HE SHE WE THEY YOU YOU YOU I HER SO PRONOUNS BEGIN DI DANCE CALLED WASHING WHOSE NAME DERIVES FROM AN ALCHEMICAL FACT THAT AFTER A SMALL STILLNESS THERE IS A SMALL STIR AFTER GREAT STILLNESS A GREAT STIR.

Rotate di husband en expose a hidden side….

Could be counted upon to lie if asked why. Otherwise could not be counted upon.

When I say hidden

I mean funny….

We have dis deep sadness between us en it spells so habitual I

Can’t

Tell it from upendo.

You want a clean life I live a dirty one old story. Well.

Not much use to you without you am I.

I love you.

You make me cry.

There are three tings to notice bout dis letta.

First

Its symmetry:

Make me cry….you make me cry.

Second

its casuistry:

cosmological motifs, fiya en wota, placed rite before talk of love

to ground it in associations of primordial eros en strife.

Third no return address.

I cannot answer. s/he wants no answer. What does s/he want.

Four tings

But from di fourth I flee

Chaste en craftily…..

X. DANCE OF DI WESTERN UNION ENVELOPE HOW DI HEART LEAPS UP MO EAGER THAN PLANT OR BEAST

“Devil’s share” is di portion of one’s goods that cannot be usefully spent en so gets sacrificed.

But wot if di devil is not so stupid.

What if a devil long after sacrifice

Starts comin en goin on di borderland-

Jus’ a crease in di daylight.

Disappearance was a game to hir…..Five werds for a dollar.

XIX. a conversashun between equals……

Coward.

I know.

Bertrayer.

Yes.

Opportunist.

I can see why you would think dat.

Slave.

Go on.

Faithless lecherous child.

Okay.

Liar.

What can I say.

Liar.

But.

Liar.

But please.

Destroyer liar sadist fake.

Please.

Please wot.

Save me.

Who else do you say that to.

No one.

No one s/he says.

Have courage.

You fool.

Oh my love.

Stop…..

These are my trophies my campaigns my honors I lay them before you.

The women.

Yes.

The lying.

Yes.

The shame.

No there is no shame.

The shame I feel.

There is no shame except in retreat.

Ah.

And I neva retreat.

I guess not.

Be my ally.

What are we talkin bout now.

If you wish not to go on with this I’ll stop…I’ve said everyting before.

What’s wrong with us.

Fog of war.

Why are we at war…no it’s not goin to clear up is it or make sense or come out into di open somewhere dis welter of disorder en pain is our life.

Yes.

Your so-called freedom.

Our so-called love……

fo jouvay!

hadithi? hadithi?

hadithi njoo, uongo njoo, utamu kolea on dis day outta time….

revised excerpts of de beauty of de husband: a fictional essay in 29 tangos, written by anne carson [in dub]

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