My three sisters are sitting
on rocks of black obsidian.
For the first time, in this light, I can see who they are.
My first sister is sewing her costume for the procession.
She is going as the Transparent lady
and all her nerves will be visible.
My second sister is also sewing,
at the seam over her heart which has never healed entirely,
At last, she hopes, this tightness in her chest will ease.
My third sister is gazing
at a dark-red crust spreading westward far out on the sea.
Her stockings are torn but she is beautiful.
written by Adrienne Rich, published on Thu 08.09.2007 at 09:38
A life hauls itself uphill
through hoar-mist steaming
the sun's tongue licking
leaf upon leaf into stricken liquid
written by Adrienne Rich, published on Sat 07.14.2007 at 19:49
only wild and wavering
I wanted to choose words that even you
would have to be changed by
written by Adrienne Rich, published on Tue 02.20.2007 at 16:48
the quality of being complete; unbroken condition; entirety
A wild patience has taken me this far