[from The Last Clear Narrative]
LIKE WATER BUT LESS STEADY
The ferrous soil through the low-tide hemline.
Blue out further, under the sky. I would
follow, but the world cares nothing
for my wanting. Changes nothing.
(Flowers open and close their faces.)
One wants to see the woman but remembers mainly the
There and not there.                             . . . ambient . . .
When removed, the body seamless, of-a-piece.
I must be still to feel her—
D. A Powell told me about Rachel Zucker, I bought both of her books, read them and am now reading them again. The final poem in The Last Clear Narrative is, by one measure, a narrative poem about giving birth. In all terms, it is remarkable. Read the poem, titled "HERE HAPPY IS NO PART OF LOVE," at How 2 New Writing.