I hold to darkened rooms, and when I must,
\nI creep through back alleys in the shadow
\nof bricks.\u00a0 Forgiveness is a rich cake I will
\nnever eat.\u00a0 Alone now.\u00a0 Blame has fallen
\nfrom me like wet leaves.\u00a0 My husband only
\na name, with the taste of bitter roots,
\ngone to an early grave.\u00a0 I drink cold tea,
\ntry to conjure the rounded face, the small
\ncommas of hands clutching sunshine,
\nthe girl child\u2019s scent.\u00a0 I feel an ache
\nin the curve of my arms, rub them
\ntill they bleed.\u00a0 My heart lies
\nin the succulent green-arrowed rosette
\nof rampion, a withered fruit within
\nthe springtime plant.\u00a0 I pin a shawl
\naround my pain and watch young
\nmothers in the market slicing radishes,
\nwhite teeth biting firm, hot meat.<\/p>\n
I hold to darkened rooms, and when I must, I creep through back alleys in the shadow of bricks.\u00a0 Forgiveness is a rich cake I will never eat.\u00a0 Alone now.\u00a0 Blame has fallen from me like wet leaves.\u00a0 My husband only a name, with the taste of bitter roots, gone to an early grave.\u00a0 I … <\/p>\n
\nPublished online in:
\nFlutter
\n2007<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"