Nalyne Lunati © 2004 All Rights Reserved

Gross Return

That we woke with the water surrounding us,
year clean with clover wherever

the horses had shut their eyes, returning
to spring, its vulgar script. Of the innumerable dialects,

we knew nothing. Geese muscling
through a mortal sky, we wished for heat.

Came then its lashing. Came the river’s lewd mouth,
ice buckling. The brass of boots and rain.

March came like the astringency of hunters. Motion,
motionless. Marrying. Wind with Wind.

 

Stacy Kidd
Copyright © 2004

 

Stacy Kidd recently completed her MFA at the University of Arkansas where she held the Walton Fellowship in Poetry.

Table of Contents             Next Poem               Guidelines