#Americans #Women
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,
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…
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
January Contorted by wind, mere armatures for ice or snow, the trees resolve to endure for now,
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…
I want to write you a love poem as headlong as our creek after thaw when we stand
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…
Because the shad are swimming in our waters now, breaching the skin of the river with their
The gathering family throws shadows around us, it is the late afternoon Of the family. There is still enough light
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…
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
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,
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
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…
