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The Thief
- University of Wisconsin Press
- Chapter
- Additional Information
The Thief He took the pond, soured green. The green was from the woods. The rot was from the trees, the stumps hauled up and planted like birds, the lady slippers and buttonbush, the chokecherry and ninebark. He took dirt for the hill because the hill was thin, too thin to hold the feet of ferns.The moss had nested. The vines all spread.The muskrat sprung a trap in shallow water. He took the rabbit’s crown, skunk’s skull, fossilized deer from the deer graves.The shotgun warmed from its sleeping place. He took mold from the mortar, and dammed the stream, damned my arms, damned my lips, damned my breasts. Goddamn my dress. Let me have this: small hooked scar, the one above his forehead that fluttered into shape, the one his best friend -13- gave him, swinging for another guy. Let me have this: time he told; our clothes, stepping stones to the field where we lay before breaking, before bitterness, before discovery. Let me bring it to my mouth. Let me pull it from my tongue, and candle to the light. And call it mine. -14- ...