Tony Hoagland – Hostess



All I remember from that party

is the little black dress of our hostess

held up by nothing more

than a shoestring of raw silk


which kept slipping off her shoulder

– So the whole time she was talking to you

about real estate or vinagrette,


you would watch it gradually

slide down her creamy arm

until the very last moment

when she shrugged it back in place again.


Oh the business of that dress

was non-specific and unspeakable,

and it troubled all of us


like the boundary of a disputed territory

or the edge of a borderline personality.

It was like a story you wanted to see

brought to a conclusion, but


it was also like a story stuck

in the middle of itself, as it kept on

almost happening, but not,

then almost happening again –


It took all night for me to understand

that the dress was designed to fail like that;

the hostess was designed to keep it up,

as we were designed to chew


the small rectangles of food

they serve at such affairs, and to salivate

while the night moved us around in its mouth.

©2008-2012 ~Cybotics

This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s