DEAR REVEREND CLARE
You ask if hope gets me up in the morning.
I say yes,
Not in your house where
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)