print previewback KATE RUTLEDGE JAFFE
Said Agatha
~
Remember the long drive dawn soft as a mallet
croquet hives echoing earth unafraid to stare
into its own black circuitries Oh gentle
oak old stranded or rather a spirit
making of my mouth canary-colored fall
That was never like her smiling us a river
forever compass blown upon the damp house
somewhere that dreadful-loving Agatha We took her doors
for ourselves her hen-traveled hands humming
We were the furniture again the maples
lovely car-printed grandchildren afraid to be heard
under and swimming pieces of the swarming clouds
the north news comfort of a weeping lawn
then out the warm halls Still a river at the door
the gilded shout a thought slipped through
A crack said Agatha a crack
~
It was the next long gentle Said Agatha
Sure it was a cellar
A path where nothing happened
but the swing jumped to life
What would a long wait feel like
its confused arms around us Said Agatha
We stumble upon the bits and pieces
It was a lot A big round house
drifted between the textured storm
and dad who sometimes lay awake
when summer nights leaned west
The dim long halls peered roller-ended
round their corners Said Agatha
Yes all day yes amidst the mourning rooms
Yes said Agatha her shouting eyes
touched hands a week of bone
a gentle flow of humors
deep as the driven day is deep
as the children ran her soft
hours through Said Agatha God hears us
wondering
~
And I had one gold mitten
clenched It longed to whip
wore an immense watch
Said Agatha Alright it is for sure for sure
You’ll want your own eyes
Women a lasting long a gentle
package of threes
Said Agatha Be beautiful
Not only did she lie in that covered
sarcophagus A raw lid in lazuli
an amethystine seventy-seven
She stopped up our breaths
necks craned pockets full of gems shredded napkins
And the felled pine planks that comely woman
baked dry in our mummy mouth
Then our mouth was an open river Agatha came
upon our masts and delicate mourned
This was the first the next
the long gentle 
