A stray cat from the next field over, hungry, finds her way to the feed bowls inside our tool shed, atop the deep freeze. Our tom lets this happen, then moves, low to the ground, into position, crouching outside, staring at the only escape. Too frightened now to eat, she too stares at it, neither…
The proper word would be “ceded”— I have gone completely over to the other side. You wouldn't know me in my pressed brown shirt and tie clip. You wouldn't know me with that white paste swirled across my scalp. Did you find me in the group picture I sent? Row AA—a mile from the left?…
for Gerald Stern Whatever sustained me was as delicate as milkweed: And whatever steadied myhand, hand, and whoever finally wasn't there When I looked up at the trembling hemline of that pond, And whatever wove me into this garment of white flesh and this face garlanded with acne at 16 or 17, a boy So…
The civilization of panes, soundless stir beyond glass, it can get you, the way everything moves and moves out there while here is solid stillness. I'd never dare imagine all this house contains, but I know beyond doubt how it keeps me courteous, unbold, that oaken umbrage, fission of mirrored air. Room to room, hall…
That reminds me. I read my name in the town ledger. Workmen stare at me from their shovel blades. It's out of the question, women won't touch me, they draw their nets across their heads, they walk ahead of me a hundred yards. Even now I am standing in paint. I tried getting work. It's…
Down on my knees again, on the linoleum outside room six, I polish it with the scarlet remnant of Grandpa's union suit, and once again Grandma Fry looks down on me from paradise and tells me from the balcony of wrath that I am girlhood's one bad line of credit. Every older girl I know…
As if bone spilled down the stairway of a long night her marble dress unfolded the seven sevens of light. We had come to see the saint. And on a weekday, only a few of the penitent in the back pews kneeled, old women with the blue of sin already seeing through their hands. It…
Despite the trouble, I decide to see them right away— these lights, perhaps they are someone's eyes. For my part this spade has proved more useful than an instinct—I had no idea I was going to crawl from such a small space. Whoever wants butter and eggs and soy and corn, a radish, a tomato,…
The body is the herb, the mind is the honey. The heart, the heart is the undifferentiated. The mind touches the body and is the sun. The mind touches the heart and is music. When body touches heart they together are the moon in the silently falling snow over there. Which is truth exceeding, is…
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