OCCUPANTThe sad mailbox of my extreme youth, what did it ever deliver? The only...
A CRITICPick up your socks. Clean the house once in a while. Go to the dentist. ...
HISTORIANPiles and piles of books, boxes of documents, photographs, bones, shreds of clothes...
YOU WHO KNOWI was just enough bigger that I could wrestle you into the clean straw of the mow...
GRIFFY LAKEI spread my smooth water like a lap and caught the trees' faces where they fell...
MOON ROAD
Starting out along the beat-up asphalt
of Dutch Church Road, shelving stream alongside,
we argued over the turn on Walker Lane.
The difficult way, potholes, sliding gravel,
that's what we were after.
Little Wolf Drive, Red Hill, Wampler:
names charming us away from ourselves. (Those ways
we lived desperately
with each other).
Where the hillslope edges
the silt flats of White River,
we hit on Moon Road,
the road that finally failed us, narrow clay
giving itself down to the floodplain,
tires slipping, your mouth tight, hands choking
the wheel, so much trouble
backing out.