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 donít mind that.
Itís the turn of his face now.
And his back.
Itís 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 canít find me, look somewhere

by the river. Iíll be the one
listening

to bullheads swim

the one on her backĖ
alfalfa, alfalfa, anoint
my soil.

With grace the sun
lands

on the hillís 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
Copyright © 2009  

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.


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