Grace, Fallen from

Seven Aubades for Summer

16 SEVEN฀AUBADES฀FOR฀SUMMER day฀one I฀read฀the฀roof฀next฀door.฀฀I฀read the฀shingles,฀their฀stony฀ overlap,฀the฀stubborn฀look my฀grandmother฀gave฀me:฀฀I฀won’t walk฀that฀street.฀฀I฀hate those฀people.฀฀But฀she฀didn’t say฀that.฀฀I฀was฀a฀child.฀฀And฀to฀protect is฀to฀change฀the฀subject and฀leave฀the฀wound,฀only฀ one฀of฀us staring฀down฀and฀down.฀฀So฀it฀was she฀clipped฀the฀brown฀glass to฀her฀glasses฀and฀we took฀a฀different฀route.฀฀Brick sidewalk,฀weedy฀grass.฀฀The฀shrug of฀a฀small฀town.฀฀And฀her฀steel,฀ a฀flash฀of฀it.฀฀One฀bird฀out฀there can’t฀get฀over฀his฀song.฀฀To฀repeat is฀to฀remember.฀฀To฀remember฀is฀to฀go on฀and฀on.฀฀Anyway,฀my฀husband฀ said฀this฀morning,฀throwing฀back the฀sheet. 17 day฀two No฀one฀take฀credit.฀฀It฀came฀to฀me in฀a฀dream฀is฀all฀anyone can฀say.฀฀The฀dream฀of฀two฀sparks makes฀another฀spark.฀฀And฀if฀only I฀could฀think฀beyond฀and฀more฀oddly,฀this stolid฀whatever-it-is,฀this฀stanza a฀room,฀just฀a฀figure฀in฀a฀doorway about฀to฀leave฀ or฀to฀enter.฀฀It฀was฀my฀mother฀ come฀back฀to฀life,฀so฀much฀younger฀ as฀I฀slept,฀plotting฀herself฀ out฀of฀a฀marriage.฀฀So฀I฀finally witnessed฀it,฀the฀moment฀she฀opened฀and฀closed and฀opened.฀฀But฀how฀did฀it฀end? My฀standing฀there,฀my฀wanting฀to฀.฀.฀.฀฀ And฀the฀sequel,฀her splintered฀look฀of฀no฀and฀yes.฀฀And฀I฀was the฀child฀who฀emptied฀to฀say anything฀at฀all. That’s฀summer,฀isn’t฀it?฀฀The฀earth฀turned฀ toward฀instead฀of฀away.฀฀It฀takes฀a฀whole฀night to฀do฀that.฀฀She’s฀a฀busy฀little฀bee,฀I฀heard฀ someone฀say฀yesterday,฀each฀word฀a฀stone฀ set฀down฀carefully,฀each฀weighing a฀pound฀or฀two.฀฀I฀work฀on฀that,฀both the฀acid฀and฀the฀praise.฀฀Nothing’s฀simple, not฀even฀the฀start฀of฀the฀day.฀฀ 18 day฀three Cars฀go฀either฀way฀up฀the฀street, blue฀and฀dark฀green฀and฀red,฀white and฀off฀white,฀dashes฀of฀color that฀vanish฀under฀fabric— someone฀patient,฀someone฀stitching. And฀closer,฀those฀trees,฀conifers,฀both of฀them฀older฀than฀I฀am,฀huge. And฀if฀I฀find grief฀in฀their฀shade฀this฀early,฀if฀I฀ find฀my฀own฀blurred฀self฀ cast฀on฀the฀ground฀there,฀a฀shape,฀ shadow,฀not฀the฀real฀branch฀฀ and฀shiver,฀what฀am฀I—a฀thief,฀a฀liar?฀ But฀I฀would.฀฀I’d฀steal฀ from฀those฀trees,฀how฀daylight฀comes฀ and฀throws฀them฀out฀of฀themselves฀ onto฀walkway฀and฀grass.฀฀I฀thought฀stain.฀฀ I฀thought฀locked-to-it,฀these years฀and฀years.฀฀ ฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀ ฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀ 19 day฀four My฀brother฀on฀the฀porch฀once in฀light฀like฀this,฀aiming฀his฀camera฀off฀its sturdy฀tripod,฀black฀and฀big฀enough to฀leave฀a฀sleeping฀baby฀in who฀dreams฀without language,฀without฀any฀past฀at฀all. So฀he฀disappeared inside฀its฀shroud,฀weird฀costume in฀a฀miracle฀play,฀not฀the฀horse’s฀head฀kept for฀the฀pageant฀but฀a฀box฀that฀repeats and฀stills,฀this฀dark฀he฀pulls฀over฀himself to฀be฀no฀one฀the฀long฀moment.฀฀What did฀the฀lens฀narrow฀to,฀if฀not—no— the฀clematis฀purpling฀wildly in฀its฀fretwork. ฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀ ฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀ 20 day฀five Here฀is฀summer,฀said฀the฀light.฀฀Welcome฀to฀my฀hunger,฀ said฀the฀wren,฀trilling฀sideways฀and฀out.฀฀And฀the฀nuthatch,฀his elegant฀gloom฀over฀everything฀is฀nevertheless sweet.฀฀Shrink฀it฀down,฀make฀ it฀stay.฀฀Between฀leaf฀and฀leaf฀is฀wind but฀only฀the฀leaf฀says฀so.฀฀Or฀both฀of฀them.฀฀Or฀all฀of฀them, brief฀frenzy.฀฀I฀knew฀night all฀night.฀฀ 21 day฀six If฀I฀skipped฀a฀day,฀would฀there฀be a฀song?฀฀Let฀the฀cat฀do฀it,฀stretched on฀the฀bed,฀sprawled฀against฀me,฀not฀wary for฀once.฀฀Let฀the฀print฀of฀a฀print฀of฀a฀print Doré฀once฀did do฀it,฀there฀on฀the฀wall,฀angels฀in฀the฀dark coming฀at฀me฀off฀a฀ship฀in฀those฀waters, the฀19th ฀century฀endless฀and฀adrift and฀never฀light฀enough฀to฀see.฀฀Let฀the฀three฀ doors฀of฀this฀room฀open฀to฀it.฀฀Let฀the฀laundry฀basket overflow฀with฀it.฀฀Let฀the฀books฀piled whichever฀way฀and฀too฀many do฀it,฀cry฀aubade,฀cry word฀no฀one฀knows฀anymore,฀ its฀little฀scheme฀to฀stop฀time฀ almost฀stopped.฀฀Let฀my฀tea do฀it,฀a฀hit฀of฀milk,฀no...