Dixie Queen

Tennessee Williams knew how
to mine the kinetics of cruelty.

Not the inverted and demure,
“I’ll roll over, and let you

ravish me, you he-man man, you!”
Forget Stella. No. It’s Stanley,

the shrieking infantile god,
who’s vicious; who’s had enough

of just “whistling Dixie;”
who finally succumbs

to being topped
by Stella’s transvestite

brother, who, in turn,
has had enough

of railroad Johns,
and of turning

hotel tricks
in the magical

and occupying
glow of paper

and red
glass lanterns

Scott Hightower is a poet living with one foot in New York City, one in Texas, and one in Madrid. His third collection, Part of the Bargain, received the 2004 Hayden Carruth Award. His translations from Spanish have garnered him a Willis Barnstone Translation Prize. He is a contributing editor to The Journal, and his reviews frequently appear in Coldfront Magazine and Boxcar Poetry Review. He teaches at NYU, and has taught poetry, non-fiction, and translation at Drew, F.I.T., Fordham, and Poets House.