Winter 1991 • Vol. XIII No. 1 Poetry |

The Auction

         1 My wife lies in another dream.The quilt covers her like a hillof neat farms, or map of the townshipthat is in heaven, each field and pastureits own color and sufficiency,every farm signed in threadby a bee-angel of those afternoons,the tracks of her inner wandering.In this bed spooled out of rock maple pluckedfrom the slopes above the farm, saintshave lain side by side, grinding theirteeth square through the winter nights,or tangled together, swollenflesh finding among the giganticsleep-rags the wet vestibule, jettingmilky spurts into the vesselas secret as that amethyst glassglimpsed once overlaid with dustin the corner of an attic.          2 Their babies have criedtheir winter morningsin this crib that rockscalm into the jumble and holdsa woman-child the size of a peckof onions, who still sleeps,the lump of freestonestill warm at her feet,under her own small hill.           3 Out nowin the cold air

Already have an account? Login

Join KR for even more to read.

Register for a free account to read five free pieces a month from our current issue and digital archive.
Register for Free and Read This Piece



Or become a subscriber today and get complete, immediate access to our digital archives at every subscription level.
Kenyon Review logo
Galway Kinnell was the author of ten books of poetry, including The Book of Nightmares, When One Has Lived a Long Time Alone, Imperfect Thirst, and most recently A New Selected Poems and Strong is Your Hold.

Read More

Coinaliste

By Galway Kinnell

         1 My wife lies in another dream.The quilt covers her like a hillof neat farms, or map of the townshipthat is in heaven, each field and pastureits own color and […]

Subscribe

Your free registration with Kenyon review incudes access to exclusive content, early access to program registration, and more.

Donate

With your support, we’ll continue 
to cultivate talent and publish extraordinary literature from diverse voices around the world.