Calendary

Calendary
by Lindsay Illich

Low as the heart’s low
     thrum, dark as moon wink.

The camp of mind, as dust
     losing its place in the caste
   of mystery. Recall the piano bench,
a door jamb, losing
all taste for living here.

The little house in a row
     of little houses forgets to mean.

The middle life of books
     and paperclip, a diaper’s
          heavy weight, the dog’s bowl
               always empty again.

Dram of aspirin, hum
of appliance, awl. Winterness
a carved carbuncle of January.

Like a splinter, this isn’t where
we were supposed to be.
Like errata, then waking up again,
kneeling at the coffeemaker,
bargaining with what gods will listen.

 

Calendary – Lindsay Illich

 

Lindsay Illich teaches writing at Curry College in Milton, MA. Her work has recently appeared in Improbable Worlds: An Anthology of Texas and Louisiana Poets.

Comments are closed.