Denise Duhamel
Möbius Strip: True or False
(after Luc Etienne, a variation)
I’m prettysure my mother was
a virgin. Now
the trend is to take
the doughy middle out
of the bagel and throw
it away. The trend used
to be–eat half. I’m
pretty sure my father
wasn’t. A woman
calls The Loveline to ask,
“Are laxatives safer than
throwing up?” When
I was a teenager, hoping
to wear four-panel jeans–
left front leg blue,
left back leg yellow (am I
the only one who remembers
these?) right front leg orange,
back front leg green–
I was already a size
fourteen. The Sears
catalogue sold those jeans,
but they only went up to 12.
Every size after 12 was
“chubbette.” If I had
lived I may still have been
a camp heroine, but fat like
my rival Elizabeth Taylor.
Who am I? I know
Dr. Dray was just trying
to save her life, but he
shouldn’t have said, “Bulimia
doesn’t help you lose weight.
All you lose are fluids.”
The caller knew he was
lying, and he lost all his
credibility. She started to
fade, “Uh huh, right, uh
huh…” My grandmother
(my father’s mother) cut
up the meat on his plate until
he was 32, until he married
my mother. A girl once
choked to death giving a guy
oral sex. Is this urban legend
or truth? He’s still not
very good with a knife–No
Americans are complains my
husband who expertly shaves
the salmon away from its gray
skin with his. My mother
used to say the Sears Catalogue
was my bible. I sat in front
of it for hours, turning the thick
slick pages. He rented porno
when I was away. I had a fit.
When I slammed the door he
didn’t run after me. The
card he sent said, “Do I have
a chance?” Oh marzipan,
who molded you into such
a beautiful flower, your hefty
sweetness glistening like
wet sand? Why did I hit
her? She was so little. One
year (1971?) you could see
the penis of a male model
in boxer shorts and all
the Sears catalogues that
hadn’t gone out to customers
had to be destroyed. The
girl at the poetry reading
said to me, “How can you
even write about that?” She
had gray bowls, lumpy
like oatmeal, under her
eyes. “I’ve been well
a long time now,” I said.
She said, “I just came out of
the hospital again. I’ve been
three times, nothing works.
I really need to talk to
you.” My best friend:
a.) had the penis-catalogue;
b.) only said she had the penis-
catalogue or c.) was jealous
because our family got
the penis catalogue
first. I am the son
of god, a carpenter, a shoe
salesman, a curse. I’m also
into fasting–can you guess
who I am? The mean
mother, the one who never
served cookies, who
demanded quiet, grabbed
a scrap of construction
paper from the floor under
the kitchen table and
screeched, “Who left this
here?” True or false:
everything is about sex except
sex which is about power
and money. Someone
pulled my arm to sit me at
a table to sign my books. “Wait
here,” I told the girl, and her
oatmeal eyes shot something
like hatred towards me,
a dim weakened hatred.
She waited by the door
and whenever I could I
tried to smile at her.
She was glaring at me, and
looking at her watch. I should
have excused myself, signed
fewer books. You can
also see a penis inside
the swirls of the camel fur
on a packet of Camel cigarettes.
At first the body just looks
like scrambled eggs, but stare
long enough and you’ll see
the penis. The truth
is I’m still not completely
well. When she
slammed the door I didn’t
run after her.
to the reader: For the complete “Möbius Strip” effect, print out two copies of this poem.
Scotch tape the pages together into two long pages, each containing the entire poem, then
cut away the title and anything under the last line of the poem which now reads, “run
after her.” Trim away any white space beyond the left and right margins, leaving no
more than an inch on each side to make a “strip” of words. Scotch tape, glue, or staple
the trimmed poems back to back, so that both copies run parallel to each other, but in a
mirrored image. The first lines of both copies, “ I’m pretty,” should be back to
back to one another, and so on. Loop the poem into a cylinder, then twist it once before
splicing and scotch taping what is currently the first line and last line together. The last
line/first line should now read, “run after her. I’m pretty” on both sides of the Möbius.
You can begin and or end your reading of this “Möbius Strip” poem at any point you
like–I suggest beginning right after a block of white space.
