K. and I were talking about anxiety. I told her a story about a time, a few years ago, when the worst of it came over me, and I was saved—nothing else, just this—by the writing of poems. "Devotions" was the first poem in what became a lengthy poem cycle.
Devotions
The hawk came three months after the fox
had taken that one last lubricious
step onto my porch, a day of deer
unclasping the bracelet of themselves
across my lawn. I wasn't ready. I hadn't been
Published on November 03, 2009 08:38