Grace, Fallen from

Spring, in Five Parts

85 SPRING,฀IN฀FIVE฀PARTS฀ 1. Here’s฀paper.฀฀Here’s฀ink in฀a฀steady฀line฀through฀the฀pen in฀my฀hand.฀฀Here’s฀the฀word word฀and฀here฀and฀hand. Can฀you฀think฀about฀thinking? Can฀you฀take฀whatever฀passes฀there, the฀shredded฀postcard฀delivered฀anyway, pieced฀together฀out฀by฀the฀curb in฀a฀truck,฀and฀taped?฀฀Thought฀like฀ a฀gene฀come฀down฀through฀the฀pool,฀ medieval฀moment,฀the฀bright,฀sweaty฀Renaissance,฀ every฀painter฀straining฀toward฀a฀ceiling.฀฀ Then฀into฀that฀river฀world,฀a฀new฀continent,฀ swift฀way฀from฀here฀to฀there,฀trees฀ in฀the฀distance฀or฀too฀close฀and฀you฀can’t฀ see฀a฀thing.฀฀He฀was฀really฀a฀composer,฀the฀poet฀said about฀the฀poet.฀฀He฀kept฀rewriting฀those฀lines the฀way฀a฀composer฀hears฀things.฀฀ Tinkering฀dark,฀I฀thought,฀up฀to—not฀light. It฀was฀a฀major฀key.฀฀Or฀the฀reverse,฀the฀utter฀ reverse฀of฀the฀angle.฀฀It฀drops฀into฀shade,฀ sinks฀back฀and฀back,฀not฀even฀ remembered฀anymore,฀those฀trees,฀ that฀continent.฀฀฀ 86 2. We฀were฀girls,฀high฀girlhood,฀fifteen or฀sixteen.฀฀And฀the฀nun not฀much฀older฀in฀that฀ordinary฀school once฀a฀novitiate,฀not฀then,฀not฀ when฀we฀stood฀there฀in฀spring,฀the฀grounds wooded฀and฀terraced,฀the฀light฀bulbs bare,฀hung฀by฀their฀cords.฀฀ The฀hallway฀bent฀ to฀a฀spray฀of฀new฀light,฀three฀of฀us talking฀to฀her,฀the฀young฀woman฀in฀those black฀robes฀still—Vatican฀II฀฀ only฀a฀wish,฀a฀start.฀฀Her฀face so฀like฀our฀faces,฀quickened฀and฀blank by฀turns,฀opened฀and฀closed,฀curious,฀then just-standing-by.฀฀And฀the฀religious฀life, she฀called฀it,฀this฀thing฀she stepped฀into฀thinking฀world฀so฀ perfect.฀฀She฀sounded฀like singing,฀low฀note฀and฀no฀note.฀฀Or฀sadly— was฀it฀sad?—her฀sudden฀ old฀to฀our฀young,฀her฀inside฀to฀our฀outside. But฀I฀forgot,฀she฀said,฀when฀you฀go฀anywhere, you฀bring฀yourself. 87 3. I฀knew฀exactly.฀฀And฀then I฀didn’t.฀฀Was฀there฀a฀porch in฀all฀this?฀฀Was฀there฀a฀house? Light฀waxing฀out฀there,฀then waning.฀฀A฀cat slow฀and฀fragile฀and฀mean and฀sweet฀by฀turns.฀฀He฀quickened to฀a฀mouse,฀but฀only a฀false฀one,฀fattened฀by฀catnip and฀full฀of฀sewn฀seams.฀฀Days unwind฀themselves.฀฀It’s฀Monday,฀ then฀Friday,฀a฀lot฀of฀walking in฀between,฀a฀lot฀of฀riding in฀the฀car.฀฀A฀lot฀of฀spoon฀to฀mouth, a฀lot฀of฀talk฀talk฀talk.฀฀I฀could,฀I฀suppose. I฀mean฀I฀can,฀I฀said,฀agreeing.฀฀ Really,฀it’s฀the฀cat฀at฀night,฀finding that฀mouse฀again.฀฀A฀toy฀mouse,฀but฀he’s thrilled.฀฀Thrilled.฀฀I฀hear฀him in฀the฀dark,฀his฀communion. 88 4. There฀are฀questions.฀฀Does฀the฀bird see฀the฀feeder฀first?฀฀Or฀does฀his฀hunger find฀it?฀฀It’s฀full,฀then฀empty in฀less฀than฀two฀days.฀฀Their฀singing doesn’t฀change฀the฀subject.฀฀A฀flock cleans฀it฀out.฀฀That฀would฀mean฀ sparrows฀or฀crows.฀฀Not฀the฀rare฀coupling, nuthatch฀or฀cardinal. ฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀ Which฀is฀only฀to฀say, it’s฀spring.฀฀The฀lettuce฀barely fringe฀in฀the฀raised฀bed,฀days฀you฀closet winter฀coats฀back฀to฀their฀dark,฀when฀you think฀about฀dragging฀screens from฀the฀basement. ฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀ Think฀about— An฀abruptness,฀right฀now.฀฀Dawn eats฀night฀earlier฀these฀mornings. Dreams฀stranger:฀฀old฀houses left฀behind฀by฀the฀dead,฀ ฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀ nothing฀unchanged in฀the฀kitchen,฀not฀the฀model฀train set฀up฀along฀the฀ceiling’s฀edge,฀ not฀the฀scorched฀pots,฀ the฀dented฀spoons.฀฀To฀keep฀or฀not to฀keep.฀฀Not฀that฀I฀know฀ what฀to฀care฀about,฀what฀to฀cast฀away. 89 5. So฀shade฀overtakes฀the฀pond฀for฀an฀hour.฀฀ Part฀of฀the฀pond.฀฀Part฀ of฀the฀hour.฀฀I’d฀know฀my฀place on฀the฀water,฀my฀hands however฀awkward,฀the฀other฀side฀ looming฀up,฀closer฀ with฀every฀bad฀stroke.฀฀But฀my฀place in฀that฀locket?฀฀I฀brood฀through฀the฀night as฀much฀as฀anyone,฀now฀and฀then checking฀the฀clock,฀enormous with฀its฀ticking฀though฀the฀gears฀ are฀tiny,฀their฀little฀teeth฀catch฀ almost฀nothing.฀฀It’s฀May, or฀it’s฀April.฀฀All฀afternoon฀ pretty฀much฀how฀it฀sounds:฀฀all,฀ then฀afternoon.฀฀The฀way,฀coming฀ out฀of฀surgery,฀I฀saw฀a฀room slow฀and฀fill฀itself฀in฀ richly,฀without฀me. ...