from Michelle Zacks

In Search of a Rich Benefactor

Request #1:

I don’t want to go to rainy old England
and I don’t want to stay at home.
I want to go to Yugoslavia
and I want to eat goat cheese, smoked fish,
and drink dry white wine out of small green-stemmed glasses.
I want to walk on the rocks along the Adriatic,
with mean wind in my face and the sun in my hair.

I want to dye my hair blond, leaving dark streaks,
and say, Yugoslavia, a thick yes in my throat.
At night in a feather bad
I want to whisper strange love songs to my Yugoslav love.
Running through rough grass, I want to laugh hyena laughs,
throw my hat in the air and sing, I am here, Yugoslavia!

To the market I’ll ride a wicked witch bike,
a full basket bouncing against my shoulders.
I’ll buy tomatoes, thick bread, a few stems of flowers,
a used foreign romance to read on the beach.
I want to lick Yugoslavian salt from my lips
and cry with the passion of inconsolable tears.
In the dark I’ll lie on a wild mountain terrace,
trace Slavic constellations and dream broken pieces of dreams.

Spring 1989