- Idyllic, and: Avian, and: Concealment
Idyllic
We broke each other's bones in backyard warsand mined the grass with foot-sized holes.
Smashed teeth and arms, a bright concussionwon with hurtled stones and kindling swords.
We dared ourselves: higher, farther, worse—to scale the house and fly from trees.
Each dusk, our pact for indoor peace lasteduntil the hedges rose again, returned
to turret walls. Anger was only the shockof blood spreading over denim knees,
forgotten in trophies of new gauze, a spectacleof crutches. Overnight, we healed like cats. [End Page 50]
Avian
Daylight shrinks, mayflies vanish.With enough food, geese will forget
to fly south. But not this year.We lie stiff together, a pair
of matchsticks. I start to tell youabout Arctic Terns, circumpolar
summers, but abandon the end.We are not so constant.
Outside, the passerines scrapethe air. There is a word
in German for this restlessnessbefore migration, a word
I cannot pronounce. Willing vagrant,you are not coming home again.
Concealment
I know the bridge of teeth, the liftinside one shoe, but not which toothis porcelain, or which is bone, and left
or right, I cannot tell which leg hangs [End Page 51] too long from your unbalanced scale of hips.I annotated your body with everything
overheard or found, but encounter your facethe least, an empty entry. I have only blackand white portraits left to mildew blooms,
clean-shaven on your wedding day. Father,only the holy or shameful is kept so hidden:scrolls in velvet, ruined floor beneath rug.
Robin Beth Schaer is the recipient of fellowships from the Saltonstall Foundation and the Virginia Center for the Creative Arts. Her poetry has appeared in Denver Quarterly, Barrow Street, Tin House, and Washington Square, among others. Recordings of her work are featured on From the Fishouse. She has taught at Columbia University, Cooper Union, and Marymount; worked at the Academy of American Poets; and sailed as a deckhand aboard the Tall Ship Bounty.