print previewback JEHANNE DUBROW
Foreign Affairs
Even when the house was frozen over
and the lights flickered as if uncertain
of themselves, we knew our losses
were transient as the weather.
Soon we washed our faces again.
We brightened the street with so much power,
when seen from a distance, the windows
blazed like white phosphorus.
Ours was a big country. Somewhere else
the electricity was always cut off
and the water needed boiling.
But who were we to explode our nights
with small concerns? He had patrolled
the shores of places famous for their sand,
and I was a daughter of diplomacy.
We slept on our backs, our limbs
like deadened things. The morning
alarm could barely wake us with its cries. 
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