Winter 1987 • Vol. IX No. 1 Poetry |

Raisins

Our pettiness is endless.Like the ancient raisin I noticed ground into the softwood on the landing, and I remembered telling you tostop scattering raisins all over the house. That was yearsago when you listened to me or at least pretendedto—I remember scraping up a lot of raisins thoughbut I don't know why I cared. At times the other night itseemed we were both doomed to teach ourselves other languages,different ones, so we would never have to speak again,or live so far apart no operator could everconnect us. You are sleeping now, your bags packed, and allthe words left unsaid come down to this raisin, more floor thanraisin now, that says so much about the ancient pain offathers and children: Things that mattered once no longer do.Maybe that anger we shared the other night as we've sharedthis address for so long---that coal of anger each of usblew on to keep it burning— maybe it will no longermatter some day and we will scatter

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Our pettiness is endless.Like the ancient raisin I noticed ground into the softwood on the landing, and I remembered telling you tostop scattering raisins all over the house. That was […]

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