Spring 2009 • Vol. XXXI No. 2 PoetryApril 1, 2009 |

Metaphysical Blight

I think it was Saturday my mother was pregnant with me she could not find a place to eat the restaurants were crowded it was the Saturday before Christmas so she bought a meatpie some fries a carton of milk from a kiosk and I became a person. What if all the cows ate all the grass and there were no grass? What if the women were ground to a Turkish grind for some worthy cause and there were no women? Without grass and without women, what could be made? What could be added to the world? And the many cows munching in it, the sound of their manifold munching, would be as pervasive as a stream in the not-too-distant. I am nailed fast by little bolts like these. A world of worried babies without grass, without women, what would that mean? You can guess the rest of the story, how this dear foolish little bit of Christmas shopping made me lonely, so lonely even the carton of milk failed to cause my cracked heart to sprout a little wheat. 

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Mary Ruefle is the author of the forthcoming book Trances of the Blast (Wave Books, 2013), Madness, Rack, and Honey: Collected Lectures (Wave Books, 2012), a finalist for the National Book Critics Circle Award in criticism, and Selected Poems (Wave Books, 2010), winner of the William Carlos Williams Award from the Poetry Society of America. She has published ten books of poetry, a book of prose (The Most of It, Wave Books, 2008), and a comic book, Go Home and Go to Bed!, (Pilot Books/Orange Table Comics, 2007).

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