#Americans #Women
When I taught you at eight to ride a bicycle, loping along beside you as you wobbled away
It was early May, I think a moment of lilac or dogwood when so many promises are made it hardly matters if a few are bro… My mother and father still hovered
My husband gives me an A for last night’s supper, an incomplete for my ironing, a B plus in bed. My son says I am average,
After Adam Zagajewski I am child to no one, mother to a… wife for the long haul. On fall days I am happy with my dying brethren, the leaves…
I want to write you a love poem as headlong as our creek after thaw when we stand
The gathering family throws shadows around us, it is the late afternoon Of the family. There is still enough light
Finding a new poet is like finding a new wildflower out in the woods. You don’t see its name in the flower books, and nobody you tell believes
Perhaps the purpose of leaves is t… the verticality of trees which we… as if for the first time: row afte… yearning upwards. And since we wil… ourselves for so long, let us now…
Into the gravity of my life, the serious ceremonies of polish and paper and pen, has come this manic animal
Pierre Bonnard would enter the museum with a tube of paint in his pocket and a sable brush. Then violating the sanctity of one of his own frames
I sing a song of the croissant and of the wily French who trick themselves daily back to the world
What we want is never simple. We move among the things we thought we wanted: a face, a room, an open book
We think of hidden in a white dres… among the folded linens and sachet… of well-kept cupboards, or just ou… sending jellies and notes with no… to all the wondering Amherst neigh…
When our cars touched When you lifted the hood of mine To see the intimate workings under… When we were bound together By a pulse of pure energy,
The door of winter is frozen shut, and like the bodies of long extinct animals, cars lie abandoned wherever