Winter 1993 • Vol. XV No. 1 PoetryJanuary 1, 1993 |

Countryside

My darling works until she finishes I resist starting--   craning out the upper window over the tiled roofs we each imagine the moon sets in night mist   she says she sees it I pretend I don't over our heads someone who makes a lot of money   does something arty the public likes like pouring color over red cherries--   not delicious wrong language when she finally finishes I am in the kitchen again   counting supplies wondering if we can return neither thinks we've woken from a strange dream   I'd gotten to the bottom of a sensation tied up with doing nothing until I felt   one way or the other in other words nothing and then being blown away by relationship never helps   --did you do that? no you made me-- it's all I can do to clean up from the night before   light streaming off the ancient stones small windows for defensive purposes the whole village set on a slope   the quest was for a form that wouldn't sacrifice pre

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