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Stephanie Strickland
POETRY
 
Absinthe 11:  Enormous Washerwomen on Stilts

 

This is the Showing,
the dream
of being fed. Fed in an attic

in front of a window—
“trees lay bare
. . . in the cold air filled

with sunshine . . . . ”
Lifted
from a ditch, Julian of Norwich,

her fourteenth
Revelation, found only
in the Long Book.

A window with shutters,
inner and outer, hanging vines
grieving its light. 

Fed real bread.

Though it smiled,
the face was grave and slowly
turning, a great gondola flower.

Close your eyes. Shut them. Try.
They are open on both sides.

 

 

 


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