#Americans #Women
I want to write you a love poem as headlong as our creek after thaw when we stand
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…
Into the gravity of my life, the serious ceremonies of polish and paper and pen, has come this manic animal
I married you for all the wrong re… charmed by your dangerous family h… by the innocent muscles, bulging l… weapons under your shirt, by your… the colors of painted scraps of su…
I remember what my father told me: There is an age when you are most… He was just past fifty then, Was it something about the trees t… There is an age when you are most…
When I taught you at eight to ride a bicycle, loping along beside you as you wobbled away
1. THE SACRIFICE On this tile the knife like a sickle-moon hangs in the painted air
I have banked the fires of my body into a small but steady blaze here in the kitchen where the dough has a life of its…
What we want is never simple. We move among the things we thought we wanted: a face, a room, an open book
For Jews, the Cossacks are always… Therefore I think the sun spot on… is melanoma. Therefore I celebrat… New Year’s Eve by counting my annual dead.
When they taught me that what matt… was not the strict iambic line goo… over the page but the variations in that line and the tension produ… on the ear by the surprise of diff…
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
The door of winter is frozen shut, and like the bodies of long extinct animals, cars lie abandoned wherever
I am only leaving you for a handful of days but it feels as thought i will be gone forever the way the door closes