I want to write you a love poem as headlong as our creek after thaw when we stand

After Adam Zagajewski I am child to no one, mother to a… wife for the long haul. On fall days I am happy with my dying brethren, the leaves…

Into the gravity of my life, the serious ceremonies of polish and paper and pen, has come this manic animal

1. THE SACRIFICE On this tile the knife like a sickle-moon hangs in the painted air

I sing a song of the croissant and of the wily French who trick themselves daily back to the world

The door of winter is frozen shut, and like the bodies of long extinct animals, cars lie abandoned wherever

When I taught you at eight to ride a bicycle, loping along beside you as you wobbled away

For Jews, the Cossacks are always… Therefore I think the sun spot on… is melanoma. Therefore I celebrat… New Year’s Eve by counting my annual dead.

I remember what my father told me: There is an age when you are most… He was just past fifty then, Was it something about the trees t… There is an age when you are most…

When they taught me that what matt… was not the strict iambic line goo… over the page but the variations in that line and the tension produ… on the ear by the surprise of diff…

Because the shad are swimming in our waters now, breaching the skin of the river with their

We think of hidden in a white dres… among the folded linens and sachet… of well-kept cupboards, or just ou… sending jellies and notes with no… to all the wondering Amherst neigh…

The gathering family throws shadows around us, it is the late afternoon Of the family. There is still enough light

What we want is never simple. We move among the things we thought we wanted: a face, a room, an open book