NER Classics | Preparations for August | Cate Marvin Cate Marvin‘s poem, “Preparations for August,” appeared in NER 22.2 (2001): Like drinking perfume, or chewing anise tablets,I pour within myself a fragrance, so my breathmay smell of rose, my skin like pale citrus. It is an act of doing, of pre-doing, what is called preparation. No need for the silken dress, or green beads of glass studding the neckline. To breathe another’s breathing, all that’s done is to inhale. What youth was to me was thrown away with the porcelain cat whose neck, once broken, was squiggled with a line of crack and glue. I may have thrown it out, but I return my mind to it, just as I return to you in thought. The briefest letter breathes warm breath on my neck. I am tempted to call the airlines to make reservations I’ll never afford. What I want is for someone to come at my calling, no matter the cost. I require desperation, sweat, and loss. It’s a bird-feathered room, a silky-walled space where we ought to meet. Likely it’ll be blank walls in a hotel room I’ll remember as extravagantly green-hued. I have always been jealous of anyone who wants you. [View as PDF] Share this:TwitterFacebook