Catherine Wagner

LOVER


Prince Genji was in love with me in the eleventh century. He put his hand through my screens. Why Lady Murasaki you may go.

Sir Walter Scott courted me wi’glove and ring, wi’ brotch and knife. I said you faker.

Sartre I fucked, it was bad.

Djuna Barnes was in love with me I told her I was scared she said Lie down!

Byron said he was we only flirted.

Will you said Lady Mary Wortley Montague stay after tea. Your ankle my dear as you rose from the clavichord.

Your hair being of the softest brightness and your bosom of the brightest softness I am loath to choose between and must address myself to both—so Philip Sidney

Once sat on Wystan Auden’s lap—kissed his jaw and rubbed his belly. I stuck my hand in his pants and found his old thing. We were both delighted. “Hag,” he said.

Job I said God punish you for a righteous man I am raw.

Come in while I dress. I will not, said Charlotte Bronte and waited in the snow.

Virginia W and I bathing—neglected pond. A honeybee pricked my lower thigh. Quoth she, where the bee suck