Academic journal article The Hudson Review

Letter to Seamus

Academic journal article The Hudson Review

Letter to Seamus

Article excerpt

March 2013

Not to worry, I'm not searching

for a second father, though

the vision of Hibernian scoldings

squares with a sweet dream.

I am still fit. I can lug a pail,

pat a haunch, slather a teat and

haul a wheelbarrow full of tossed

poems or tinctured manure,

wisp that I am, once hailed as

a mountain woman for my battle

with lobsters in an outboarded

dory. That victory's decades

dust now, but hear my hunger

motoring into a squirt of Atlantic

knots. What you write about

the trance, another words as "yes"

in a tossed bottle, another

terms a feast at the bottom

of memory furred by invention.

Virtue I'm never clear on,

mixed sod that I embody.

Dad's been dead four months

now; his ghosty blues breaking

through the haze at my

command-brain-despot the

only thing, and that goes, too,

sloughing off like snow-skin,

but not yet! …

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