Monday, April 25, 2011

Poem: "Easter"


your body an arrival
you know is false but can’t outrun
—Jorie Graham, “The Geese”

The manufacturers have dropped the on button
from their machines, or else have made
the on button also the off button. Every day
is full of indignities. Light wash, normal wash.
Back to front. Push to turn.

The beautiful spring day in the park
proves the forecast wrong. It is worrying.
The perambulator threads the submerged
rocks. The tulips dazzle their beds.
They leave tomorrow, they wave.
Normal wash, heavy wash.

The woman who grew up with her grandmother
in Florida played alone.
The other children visited with the winter,
when there was no flooding.
The woman with breast cancer announces
that her medication has made her menopausal.
She is the one
who is pushing the pram and needs the bathroom.
There are only ever two women.

Heavy wash, light wash.
You remove the dirty dishes from the broken cycles.
You look up the flights to San Francisco.
You check all the cheap-fare websites and they give
the same prices for the summer.

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