#Americans #Women
Some say it was a pear Eve ate. Why else the shape of the womb,
I sing a song of the croissant and of the wily French who trick themselves daily back to the world
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
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,
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,
We invent our gods the way the Greeks did, in our own image’but magnified. Athena, the very mother of wisdom, squabbled with Poseidon
Because the shad are swimming in our waters now, breaching the skin of the river with their
When I taught you at eight to ride a bicycle, loping along beside you as you wobbled away
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…
The door of winter is frozen shut, and like the bodies of long extinct animals, cars lie abandoned wherever
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 want to write you a love poem as headlong as our creek after thaw when we stand
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…
The gathering family throws shadows around us, it is the late afternoon Of the family. There is still enough light
What we want is never simple. We move among the things we thought we wanted: a face, a room, an open book