After
Now that her heart is bent over
like larkspur after a storm,
she stays in bed past milking time,
pulling the quilt
tight around her shoulders
until her collie barks her
down the stairs
to lift the backdoor latch.
Now that her heart is bent over
like larkspur after a storm,
she stays in bed past milking time,
pulling the quilt
tight around her shoulders
until her collie barks her
down the stairs
to lift the backdoor latch.
Have we finally become a visionless people?
We confuse self-combusting debris for stars and blame everything
on our earthly enemies.
Blessed are you, maidens of the one hundred and eighty afternoons
You of the cough at the first inhale
I look at him and I say
There’s a man who’s broken
his nose once or twice
Image: “The Kitchen Goddess” by JoAnne Tucker. “The Rebirth of Venus” was written by Luisa Giulianetti for Rattle’s Ekphrastic Challenge, February 2023, and selected as the Artist’s Choice.
… unless it was love of the bottle. Word was
he’d drunk the family farm, acre
by acre, till a neighbour took the shell
of the house for a shelter.