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Title page: Beloved Revolutionary Sweetheart by Beatriz Hausner, published by Book*Hug

FIRST EDITION

Copyright © 2020 by Beatriz Hauser

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
Title: Beloved revolutionary sweetheart / Beatriz Hausner.
Names: Hausner, Beatriz, author.
Description: First edition.

Identifiers: Canadiana (print) 20200194194 | Canadiana (ebook) 20200194208
ISBN 9781771665933 (softcover) | ISBN 9781771665940 (HTML)
ISBN 9781771665957 (PDF) | ISBN 9781771665964 (Kindle)

Subjects: LCGFT: Poetry.

Classification: LCC PS8565.A79 B45 2020 | DDC C811/.6—dc23

The production of this book was made possible through the generous assistance of the Canada Council for the Arts and the Ontario Arts Council. Book*hug Press also acknowledges the support of the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund and the Government of Ontario through the Ontario Book Publishing Tax Credit and the Ontario Book Fund.

Logos: Canada Council, Ontario Arts Council, Canadian Heritage, Ontario Creates

Book*hug Press acknowledges that the land on which we operate is the traditional territory of many nations, including the Mississaugas of the Credit, the Anishnabeg, the Chippewa, the Haudenosaunee and the Wendat peoples. We recognize the enduring presence of many diverse First Nations, Inuit and Métis peoples and are grateful for the opportunity to meet and work on this land.

Logo: Book*hug Press

I love you more than Seguin did Valence,

And how I’d like to conquer you in love,

My dearest friend, for you’re by far the greatest

—The Countess of Dia, often called Beatritz

Contents

Tied Up

High Priestess

Song on Tongue

So soon as the front of you

Tied Up

Because I Am Beatrice

Theodorae Biblioteca

The Dream of Theodora

Justinian’s Dream

Isis Up in the Air

Every Door Has Two Fronts

The Delightful Love Of Bacchus

A Story of Egypt, Twisted

Isis Up in the Air

For Good and Ever

Begins the Bright Season

The Importance of Human Romance

The Importance of Human Romance

The Orgasm Elegies

The Orgasm Elegies

Prayer Star

Notes

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Colophon

Tied Up

Part title: Tied Up

High Priestess

Our revered lords ladies dear ones I am come to render elegant

homage to silks sometimes chains due to the reversal of the bias.

 

The principal altar is up side down. Divine Adoratrice of Amun

you of the easy knit interacting with the holder of the office, use

 

yourself as inspiration in moiré and the shimmery legs strutting

down the aisle: May the perfect fabrications reach up to you because

 

nothing detracts from the treatment the modality of those fabrics

draped against hardware. You command our attention to the mirror

 

of ourselves your subjects. Because you must on your own place

the ethereal layers and it is necessary to conceal your love of these

the mothers of the children hanging off us women who accept

the wearing of garments for our Lord Love of perfect fit. Around

 

us rise the hanging gardens of Babylon and Alexander who saw

them and mistakenly fled along the grain yes against the grain for

 

he knew not the power of adjuration entreaty renewed twice yearly

when we sat along the long path and praised the importance of the

 

collar to Amun God’s Wife you are God’s Wife of Amun they call

you more than all the vestals at the altar you alleviate suffering and

 

the sisters moan in a blessed tone as the trombone groans with the

seasons of irreverence are we renewed spring summer fall and

winter the collections are with the art of being from which we animate

ourselves. I entreat you: do nothing don’t do anything to your genders

 

of sex for him not the fulfillment of desire nor the satisfying

of want though getting to coming requires great creative power

 

and the constant invention of writing where pleasure is a present

couture placed against ready-to-wear for the young ones who

 

work seamlessly and in heels. The young secretariat records

your dictum: I belong to a world devoted to elegance. The

 

manner of your prayer makes us the thing that most suits you

from which flows our cosmology and structure and softness and

masculine and feminine sometimes the unflattering silhouettes

of ugly chic luxury albeit not basted but rather shirred so

 

that normalizing the unexplored when designing on paper

when fabricating when draping when cutting when sewing

 

when finishing the fabric is the medium. Pre-eminently

wearable with the figure dictating the shape of those garments

 

you offer your chest of accessories drawers that open

and close of their own will overflowing fruit crushed

 

in a glass of blue of green jewels inside alcohol. We

travel in a car pulled by two lapdogs whose names are

princely.

 

A designer also this Theodora your sister of now utilizing

whole with no exterior construction to force the dress into

 

place—and you must be patient. You must surpass yourself

to reach your goals—you utter as the flame is lit and you close

 

your eyes in prayer pull the flame to your cheeks with your

hands and kiss the deities invisibly protecting us warrior

 

women in file we parade before you, we who are

fierce and strong, impenetrable owners of our sex.

Song on Tongue

When least expected

you arrive with

song on your tongue

revenant king

 

nestled with our sexes

 

present yourself

that I might see you

shackled to strange

furniture

 

love hidden

 

by the textures of want

I travel the length

of your body with my lips

 

I touch

 

your geographic markers

west to east

movement

stasis

 

always the heart

let us not bury

the distressed moan

not place the slab

over us

 

nor live

with exculpation

in dream

 

a star rises to your lips

to your hair made

of filaments of gold

and of fabulous

 

smoke

with Moro anchoring

this voice you enter

the room and tap

lightly on nerves

 

that grow inward from my sex

now caught in the jaws

of the lion

 

let us meet daily and at

the hour proscribed

by sun clocks

 

exact premonitions

of surrender

let us

love to excess before

someone invisibly turns

the hue of my skin to indigo

 

before they place a bowl of blood

in one hand lotus flower

in the other

a snake