DEAR REVEREND CLARE
You ask if hope gets me up in the morning.
I say yes,
Not in your house where
Everything exists,
But in mine
Where all things are lost.
The top latch takes the weight of the door,
And so it is true, as I teach
Liza and Everina all that you teach me.
You say my child's sense of wonder is coupled with
A grown person's knowing grief,
And why shouldn't it be?
You are talking to a girl with a pencil hidden
In a broken cup
On top the highest shelf
Stained by curdled cream
Behind a ceramic pitcher
Where it cannot be thrown away.
from WHAT I WOULD DO FOR LOVE:
Poems in the Voice
of Mary Wollstonecraft
(1759-1797) Jacaranda Press (2004)
Posts
