In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

66 Goldfinches in a Dull Light for my mother Snow in April. And I will leave footprints in the slow dawn and the deer will come, yearling fawn and doe, brown and warm, their gazes calm, to the edge of the trees, wondering . . . what is this season, white and strange, this snow falling, frail, into waves of dark earth? I walked out in the grass to see the trail already dissolving. Melting, the earth takes in footprints like rain. We vanish so easily . . . 1st fragment: the Nightgown Ballet. Fragment 2: your little dog scratching the door. Fragment 3: stain of shame . . . scrubbing, scrubbing the cloth. And snow makes a maze of sky; hemlocks high along the ridge wave dark arms, up and down, scarcely moving. Snow, dust, ash born on air. It snows into morning. The deer are inside it now. 67 Fragment 4: Ambulance summoned. Fragment 5: I don’t remember. Fragments 6 and 7: the Nightmare of Barbiturate. Fragment 8: The one with the car and exile. The purple tulip opened, snow swelling its heart, bearing the cold flower, the daffodil bent down. And the goldfinches in dull light bring their hunger to the frost-bit grass, seek the dark meat of seed; the heart beating, burning air, will not abate. In the grass I see a hundred villages, and you are ash. ...

Share