Maureen Seaton's Venus Examines Her Breast (Carnegie Mellon, 2004) won the Publishing Triangle’s Audre Lorde Award. She directs the creative writing program at the University of Miami.

When I had electricity I plugged
in every bright device designed by man:
fridge, phone, toaster oven. I clicked and clogged

electrons nightly—waves around my head and
yours, a contagious excitement—with the din
of overdone, the snazz of random

lamp and lit green screen. I was Queen of Snick
and Phosphor, best Electra Complex
on the grid. I master-charged negative

ions frequently and luminous, next
of kin to Aurora Borealis
gone South Florida, the boat-benched, wind-hexed

scaryopolis we call Paradise:
roof-plucked, sand-sucked Mary-Poppinish
toe in a twelve-foot surge of rips and sea lice.

There’s Pleiades! When I had electric
I forgot six sisters blink to the right
of the evening star. I threw a switch

and hunkered away from yin and brack. I
squeezed Venus from infinity and hogged
the light—house, heart, bulb—the entire perfect night.

                                                      —after Wilma, 10/05

 Poem © Maureen Seaton 2005-2006

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