I Tell You
(excerpt)
I could not predict the
fullness
of the day. How it was enough
to stand alone without help
in the green yard at dawn.
How two geese would spin out
of the ochre sun opening my spine,
curling my head up to the sky
in
an arc I took for granted.
And the lilac bush by the
red
brick wall flooding the air
with its purple weight of beauty?
How it made my body swoon,
brought my arms to reach for
it
without even thinking.
*
In class today
a Dutch woman split
in two by a stroke - one branch
of her body a
petrified silence,
walked leaning on her husband
to the treatment table while
we
the unimpaired looked on with envy.
How he dignified her wobble,
beheld her deformation, untied her
shoe, removed the brace that
stakes
her weaknesses. How he cradled
her down in his arms to the table
smoothing her hair as if they were
alone in their bed. I tell
you -
his smile would have made you weep.
*
At twilight I
visit my garden
where the peonies are about to burst.
Some days there will be more
flowers than the vase can hold.
~ Susan Glassmeyer
~
(The Incomplete Litany of Untold
Stories)
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