I Pack Her Suitcase with Sticks, Light the Tinder, and Shut the Lid
She used to sit on the forest floor and I would cut her hair until it piled up onto the ground, like ash. Tonight, her name is a leaf covering my left eye. The right I close for the wind to stitch shut with thread from the dress she wore into the grave where the determined roots of the tree are making a braid around her body.
From The Lesser Fields. Copyright © 2009 by Rob Schlegel. Used with permission of The Center for Literary Publishing.
Rob Schlegel is the author of January Machine (Four Way Books, 2014), which won the Grub Street National Book Prize in Poetry.
Date Published: 2009-01-01
Source URL: https://poets.org/poem/i-pack-her-suitcase-sticks-light-tinder-and-shut-lid