Mother
One day the Internet will be gone.The lights will blink off.Buildings will be only the outline of their foundations,then those too will turn to dust.The gods give you fire:you put it in your heartand walk forward.Heat and pain. Dim light, long shadow.A tiny person wakes up sad, then happy,then hungry, then full. My job is to keep her alive.Failure is inevitable.What if all I want is to delight in this noxious body?What if there’s nothing above this?What do I sacrifice if not myself?
Kitchen Utensils
Robert Lowell destroyed his first wife’s face, twice.She went to Maine to drink herself to death,and when she ran out of booze she calledthe local sheriff to drive her to the liquor store.When I read that, I pictured her in the backof an ancient Ford with a…
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The American Poetry Review (Digital) - 1 Issue, May/June 2023