harking back to an earlier poem of mine: poor wendy -- all the heroines get left behind. but she was a darling after all. yes, i very much have tears in my eyes. and it shall be hard to see, and sometimes i won't want to, but i will go on looking an...
i am always eve r i am mistaken in living in memory again oh on the river bank with a muskrat we sat in silence of sunshine first thing this morning his paws are dew wet my toast h as the same crunch of frost underfoot in the field w here stars had hung in the apple trees of the orchard all ways lovely as daddy's orchids in the window a window ledge th is of my hot sticky honeyed limbs come summer where i felt not one hot hornet sting with my dreams sweet and lavender stained the lily froth of milk i mouthed over breakfast muddy feet sister bathes her tooth marks on my forearm tantrum tears over that ruby gleam in the tub and our toys scattered in play ice cream and lemonade in a stormy purple day when the hay was cut and we stacked bails and climbed and ouch electric fences on my new child limbs caught on barbed wire and insect bites swimming down river with dogs' paws naked as are our feet padding homeward an ever hungry mouth sounding still for their wayward daughter drowned in dreams still still
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