Academic journal article Field

Letter to What's Mostly Missing

Academic journal article Field

Letter to What's Mostly Missing

Article excerpt

after Christopher Howell's "He Writes to the Soul"

At first I thought I'd write

you about the sycamore that won't dress for supper,

preferring its white limbs bare, and how the oak

it dotes on returns the favor by offering chartreuse

hankies on every hand. Then I thought that's just me

again, swapping summer for supper, canopy for canapé,

and surely we're beyond that now. So instead I guess

I'll give you news of the silver lining, which was dreaming

until Wednesday when it woke to say Cloud, Sun,

Sliver of Glass. Lucky for me I was wearing my safety

goggles and asbestos gloves at the time. Lucky the pink

heat had my hair to burn or who knows what limestone

brimstone Joan of Arc shit I'd be subjected to next.

It was the meteorological opposite of that time

in the graveyard cracking ice with my boot heels

off the headstones to find her. All that pristine weather

and footwear later to discover: dead is still dead.

That's what our ghost says anyway. She says

she hears us best when we can't speak. She's

nicknamed you Kodak - for the colorful memories

we create, I suppose - or perhaps it was Kodiak she said

through the ice. …

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