- Good Bones,
my grandmother would say of certain girls,as though by the blossom of their adolescenceshe could read with an engineer's eye the structureof a new bridge over the river of regeneration. Hips, mostly,were what she meant, suggesting ease of childbirth,
but also, as I came to see, the taper of the ribcageand a neck of length sufficient for the drapery of a shawl.Hands sized for finework, proportional feet,sleek calves. As for the nose of my then-girlfriend,she offered a modicum of pity, a shrug, and the suggestion
that life would be better lived behind her. Misunderstandingmy ardor, she nevertheless read my heart's desire.Was there ever anyone outside of ancient Sicily who discussedwith his grandmother the Platonic ideal of the perfect ass?Think of that a while, and know how much I loved her. [End Page 6]
Robert Wrigley's most recent collection is Beautiful Country (Penguin, 2010). His books have been awarded the Kingsley Tufts Award, the Poet's Prize, and the San Francisco Poetry Center Book Award. A former Guggenheim Fellow, he teaches in the graduate writing program at the University of Idaho.