Poetry
Drop my children off at another parent’s house
To free up time to drive aimlessly, listening to
FM radio, waiting for a song that I feel deeply
Anyone who has ever kept a secretKnows that letters cannot be burned in a bundle
The week her grandfather died, she recalleddancing with him at her sister’s wedding,the gardenia, his neatly parted white hair,a tango he likened to snow falling in calm wind.
For just one buck this gaudy one-eyedcheap tin crescent moon is mine,lead painted by some ‘artist’ in Beijing,mysterious mythic glamour brought lowby tawdry colors, already chipped,melodramatic, second-rate
To make it fair, we’ll need to wearthe same number or articlesof clothing and decide whethersocks count as one or two and ifrings and watches count at all.
At sixteen, the good kissrelied on pitch-black darknessduring the seventeen-mile ride to our dairy farmafter we won the basketball gameand my point-guard boy danced with me
She had been here, and now she is gone,leaving her mark like an imprint in snow.Her things are still here, but she has moved on.
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Wisconsin Academy Offices
1922 University Avenue
Madison, Wisconsin 53726
Phone: 608.733.6633
James Watrous Gallery
3rd Floor, Overture Center for the Arts
201 State Street
Madison, WI 53703
Phone: 608.733.6633 x25