Find and share the perfect poems.
The fine fourth finger of his fine right hand, just slightly, when he's tracking our path on his iPhone or repairing the clasp on my watch I will not think about the myelin sheath. Slight tremor only, transient, so the flaw in the pavement must have been my mother's back.
From The Selvage by Linda Gregerson. Copyright © 2012 by Linda Gregerson. Reprinted with permission of Houghton Mifflin Harcourt. All rights reserved.
can be seen in the tree though the dogs
unmistakably indicate, when clearly
the canopy calls to them and days
have passed before you’ve even begun,
when nothing in the undergrowth has
prompted so much as a whimper, you
The dining hall for instance: open roof beams,
open screens, and yard upon yard
of clean swept hardwood flooring, it
might almost be a family camp.
And likewise in the sleeping room: expanse
of window, paneled wall, and the
In payment for those mornings at the mirror while,
at her
expense, I’d started my late learning in Applied
French Braids, for all
the mornings afterward of Hush
and Just stand still,
to make some small amends for every reg-
iment-
ed bathtime and short-shrifted goodnight kiss,