We put aside a daughter: shoebox of ashes tucked beneath a fruit tree that half-bloomed in sandy soil behind the barn. Locals said her life was with another man. In His home, they said, she is His tree. He climbs her, this sufferer, heart so wan. Jesus on the tree! The unfinished son, an idea’s…
She was not yet six, hale and well-looking, farmed out, as her siblings had been; ward of a Putnam, whose relatives had brought the charges against her — she had taken the shape of a dog, they said, and was roaming the countryside, biting the girls. No man relished presenting her in court. The marshal,…
I live here, but do not live here. Trash blows through the sky tonight. Out of a snowy tree, the stars appear, drops of ice-water, they seem so pure. The tree petrifies. They are its parasites. I live here, but do not live here. `Fusion’ was the word I loved — its nuclear logic. The…
The air still freighted with her labor holds them both, cow, and calf creased in her flank, together, the simple alphabet of bond and bondage. Drawing close, I stared at her long profile, her huge eye brimming like a dark tear. In the shadows, heavy with scent of dung I saw Hera, Queen of Olympus,…
—Jonathan Edwards Edwards said we may go out of the world suddenly at any moment, when God pours his words before us & they freeze On roads, on bridges, new cold skin is laid on, flayed off by the wind’s whipping sentence. Driving, I hold my foot back: in due time it will…
A cold joy leaps from the orchard in early evening, when the pear and apple flower. Their petals enclose the nubs of the unformed fruits with a private dampness. Cattle drift through the fields like headstones, and soon the sky will spill its milky light down almost into the trees. Children are swimming in a…
I did not know, any longer, the meaning of my happiness; it held me unexplained. Eudora Welty Out I would go, as if out were a city, and I was buoyant and self-absorbed, my own climate, though like a pond my city held its own warm and chill districts aloof to the good news and…
Clyde, you were older than the other fourth graders; your chalky face set off with slick, black hair, your lips too red. When you smiled your mouth went thick as a slug, and when I turned my head in class you were always there like a dream I couldn’t wake from, bent over your work,…
Like the hand of her husband pressing, it goes beneath the earth, turns to straw the deep white roots. Over the creekbed come those who watch from yellowing trees, watch as she and the girl break down a length of berm and lay-in the man. Watched: the girl, who is last to shrink within her…
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