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Post by MoonyLuna on Jan 1, 2009 13:18:22 GMT -5
In Monet's Water Lilies, willows dissolve into flowers dissolve into water, and form becomes a dream in purples and blues without scent or story. Consider the death of boundaries, the way sight dissolves the moment just before sleep overtakes us. The way a man can disappear inside a woman. I remember a day of ruffling waters when we sailed west in your creaky boat. We steered for the horizon— that penciled-in line between ocean and sky, then watched as it receded ahead of us. The night my mother died there were cells in her body that didn't notice. For a while the moons of her nails kept rising, the hair kept growing from the apex of her widow's peak. Now by a barbed-wire fence that divides two countries, the invisible roots of an old tree spread their living network underground, in all directions.
Copyright Linda Pastan
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Post by MoonyLuna on Jan 1, 2009 13:19:01 GMT -5
Featured Poet Linda Pastan
Linda Pastan is the author of twelve books of poetry, the latest of which, Queen of a Rainy Country, was published by Norton in 2006. She was Poet Laureate of Maryland from 1991-95 and has been a finalist twice for the National Book Award. In 2003, she won the Ruth Lilly Poetry Prize.
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