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Shame kept coming back that year, a broken record, a broken mother leaning in the door, the sunlight behind and through her cotton dress, caressing those places that haven't been caressed in years, thin silhouette of legs, collapsing hips, breasts hanging flat with all the shame they can bare. Even as you're leaving, even on…
After fifteen-years, after surveyors dug up what they had buried, we learned that the neighbor's lilacs were really ours and you could take flowers before dark. Let's go out now, Mother, before tea and cut handfuls. Then while we fill jars with aspirins and ice, you can tell me that you memorized every back road…
When you were first born, your eyes were blue and you couldn't see but what you felt was real. In the crib you screamed against the bars and no one came and that was knowing. The milk pale blue from the mother's breast shone through your new skin. A lode of fear and hiding place…
First the slow dream of bourbon and gasoline Horses bare their teeth as they are herded into boxcars Leaves rustle at the edge of a soccer field Then motorcades drift through clean intersections And the pedestrians stalled if only for seconds Watch their own reflections shrink in store windows Next they throw the plastic down…
I knew I'd end up facing his psychiatrist, telling him of my bedtime review of everything I'd eaten that day, my skill at silently forcing up anything that would keep me from feeling bone. I also knew that doctor would be followed by another who would ask me questions. I was twenty-five and good at…
This is when you unloose what you know she hit me she hit me This day opens and its flowers like winter breaths lift as they open wider, into leopard paws, into baskets of snow. The sleeping world loosely rocks on its hinge. Now your hand drifts open and shut. Rise up childlike on the…
I was happy once for nine days. My housekeeper found a novena for hopeless cases on her seat in church, a prayer to be recited every day for nine days, and she thought she might as well say it for me since I had been complaining of hard times. She apologized for calling me a…
Jana and I were in the bathtub on a drizzly afternoon, miles from anywhere. She was turning the hot water on and off again with her foot. I leaned against her, comparing legs. It made me think I was seven again, at the Albany Art Museum, copping a feel of those rich velvet cordons when…
The suitcase, deathly still by the door, sun-warm, waiting in the dusk-darkened corner. The cars coming and going there. Summer an endless usher of drugged voices, thunder, cold nights in the fan's path, water thin over the face, the dresser's black square. Then, quick as odor— rain on a jacket, steps in the foyer. In…
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