Sample Poems
Wishbone
Oh, Y of the bird’s broken breast, odd unstrung sling shot, you alone know what we crave – how, pushing back our chairs from the table, bone china smeared with jellied cranberries, gravy, and scraps of tender flesh, we wish for so much more. We want to believe – like ancient Etruscans who reigned over banks of River Po – you can predict with an uneven split our fortunes true. We hold you between us as if we’re quarrelling litigants hauled before Solomon’s court, but neither of us will give up – we’ll wrestle our desire, each from the grip of the other, praying just this once for a lucky break. Originally published in Atlanta Review |
Port Desire
– January, 1834 At twilight the crew drops anchor, waves slap the hull, and the solitary brig-sloop sways. The Beagle has sailed seventeen days after giving up the hunt for the flightless Lesser Rhea. Darwin sits down to dinner, dark descending like a wing, and picks at the tender bird half-eaten on his plate, meat warm in his belly with wine. He lifts his fork and stops mid-bite. Sinking to his knees, frantic, he digs bones and feathers from the trash. * I’ve been there myself, anchored outside Port Desire, love’s breast essentially devoured – how easy it would have been to quit, throw the whole mess overboard. Originally published in the anthology Dare to Repair |