Susannah Habecker © 2009 All Rights Reserved
Susannah Habecker © 2009 All Rights Reserved
A Lost Gospel of Eve
Okay. Naked.
And the guy.
I get the outcome of fall.
All it sorrowed.
We work.
From when the left sky is shining.
To a dark dark.
I don’t mind that.
It’s the turn of his face now.
And his back.
It’s all this earth.
I have a feeling it wants.
Whatever is living.
Inside me.
***
Along Field
The land
has fallen again
into a general
calamity of white
as water flowers
into flake and dances
with the zeal
of someone set free
the last season is past
its dying and flame
so is my father
well into absence
I see this snow
as old bone now
my breath held by air an instant
and gone
***
Dirt
If you can’t find me, look somewhere
by the river. I’ll be the one
listening
to bullheads swim
the one on her back–
alfalfa, alfalfa, anoint
my soil.
With grace the sun
lands
on the hill’s backbone
while crows toss
to wind
their salty words.
A summer of each sweet
piece.
Thick of green flame and row
upon row
this corn with its fingers always
in the dirt.
Betsy Johnson-Miller teaches at St. John's University/College of St. Benedict in Minnesota. Her young adult novel, The Bracelet, was published in May of 2009, and her writing has appeared in the Mid-American Review, LIT, the Seattle Review, AGNI Online, the Sycamore Review, 5 AM and Ascent.