My daughter is eight & alreadyworried she won’t find someone to marryor, more precisely, someone who will want to marry her—already the notion of marriage arrives an exclusionary prize.Though I say It doesn’t work that way she seems unconvincedthat life’s destination isn’t a prince, caped,at the end of 8th grade, the time fallingin love & marrying is said to happen. In Philadelphialanternflies cling to trees & we agree to kill them,the flies, to save the trees. I wonder what makes an ideainvasive, how we can know as we grow our desiresto suck dry another’s sap, inject it with our sadness,release our dreams from their cold bark knowing someonesomeday may crush us with purpose: a personal victoryin the name of ecological community. Always,a looking back at what could have been hadwe…
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The American Poetry Review (Digital) - 1 Issue, March/April 2024