The Wardrobe’s Best Dressed: Lucy Ives’ “Orange Roses”

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The Catalogue

1

The body of water a particular time of day resembles         (candida)

Permanence, residence, desire, history, possession        (culture of)

That difference, disproportion
Was written in the stars

                                                                (form of an animal, unnamable
                                                                           ages point to point, how

                                                                                                he rushed to
                                                                                              hunt me with

                                                                                                        a bluff)

Il trompe son monde

2

The man next to me appears

Like an angel enamored of

The apple, to be

In redness, as of love

3

In this black underwear or smiling. Teeth long as a beard
or grinning. That there might be less question of favor

In light of the neck’s miniature hair. On occasion of envy
and admiration. In hopes of return

Respectfully posed for catalogue photos. With apparent concern for
the passerby. Without impatience

That the song continue to their advantage. Palely

4

The way this teacher crowds up over the woman’s shoulder! Ich? She
asks him warmly Ich? The bronze animals twitter, walk on each other’s
shoulders. They were a statue from Bremen, I tell you, a statue!

5

They lay in bed; more honestly, on the floor; most honest, nude on
the carpet under a blanket except for their socks. Behind their heads,
a window, and birds rush up it. A clear day, and this is just after
the flock passes, she asks, “What?” Literally, he has been telling her
about a man he believes practices magic. He is trying to explain what
he will do with his life. “My friend,” he says, “would not even let
me read the book. I tried to pick it up, and he knocked it out of my
hands.” He says, “It’s because he thinks I might be predisposed to do
evil. Nietzsche,” he says, “though, is only talking about bad and good.
There’s a difference between bad and evil.” There is a large silk scarf
stretched across the ceiling. They are on the fifth floor. The authorities
these people report to are different. For example, she says, “You look
like a cat.” For example, he says, “Interesting.” At eleven o’clock they
rise. He moves toward the closet where he removes a small leather
pouch and draws something gold out. “This basically expresses who
my father is,” he says. He has a Mercedes symbol on a chain in his
hand. He does it up around his neck. “I think I am going to wear my
cowboy shirt today,” he says. She goes into the bathroom. Splashing
sounds, faucet and toilet, can be heard. In the meantime, he busies
himself with the cd changer. She comes into the room again in a hurry.
She draws on the long dark coat he admires

6

Our amazing bed is the future. Do nothing but lie down on it. Owners
love the feeling of weightless sleep

7

Our amazing bed is the future. Do nothing but lie down on it. Owners
love the feeling of weightless sleep Miracle on the inside. Our amazing
bed is the future. Do nothing but lie down on it. Owners love the
feeling of weightless sleep. Miracle on the inside. Our amazing bed is
the future. Do nothing but lie down on it. Owners love the feeling of
weightless sleep. Miracle on the inside. Our amazing bed is the future.
Do nothing but lie down on it. Owners love the feeling of weightless
sleep. Miracle on the inside. Our amazing bed is the future. Do nothing
but lie down on it

This selection comes from Lucy Ives’ book Orange Roses, available from Ahsahta Press. Purchase your copy here!

Lucy Ives was born in New York City in 1980, received an AB, magna cum laude, from Harvard College, an MFA from the Iowa Writers’ Workshop, and is currently completing a PhD in comparative literature at New York University. She has lived outside the U.S. for extended periods in Hirosaki, Japan, and Paris and has studied French, German, Greek, Japanese, and Latin, among other languages. A deputy editor with Triple Canopy, the arts magazine and publisher, Ives continues to live in New York.

Darren C. Demaree is the author of three poetry collections, As We Refer to Our Bodies (2013, 8th House), Temporary Champions (2014, Main Street Rag), and Not For Art For Prayer (2015, 8th House). He is the recipient of three Pushcart Prize nominations and a Best of the Net nomination. He is also a founding editor of Ovenbird Poetry and AltOhio. He is currently living in Columbus, Ohio with his wife and children.

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