Blackbirdan online journal of literature and the artsFall 2018  Vol. 17 No. 2
an online journal of literature and the arts
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Poem that Begins on a Staircase

Night’s kinship behind me now,
the bed’s dream-shaken,
desolate sheets.

Out the window, a blithe blue sky
I traded for all those gales.
And morning rising up the stairs

like smoke from a low fire—
news of other rooms
and longitudes.

Police Swarm Hostage Sites Killing Gunmen.
Woman Killed by Truck
Carrying Bees. Mom, did you know

we’re out of milk again. The kitchen now—
the watched pot,
the hand that feeds. The children

are older, have unraveled
from my side. And my love,
always brittle anyway, breaking

where it should bear
weight. Still,
every morning I startle

at their flight,
their bright, unworried departures.
Door to the jagged world

open wide, and their bodies
clinking through it
like the day’s loose change.  

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