Jan/Feb 2017 • Vol. XXXIX No. 1 PoetryJanuary 1, 2017 |

Something about Defiance—

The body is a helpless gesture in spring, unwanted letters from a prisoner in Polandpiling up under starry green, the maples with their gentle look, leave me alone to dress. I'm preparing for another journey back to the mountains, landscape of first love stark as a blackbird in a magnolia tree— youth is lost like that, the sky pretending and then not pretending. The clearest linewe know, the road home. Sometimes love isn't enough, little basket for collecting flowers, then fruit, then—. When my girl body gave out, I floated a while, finally realizing the study of painis an art form: how to eat chicken feet, etc., and I in this new silver light its notetaker. 

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