This poem originally appeared in the Spring 1980 Issue of MQR. It is available via our archives. Image Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons: By Abhijit Kar Gupta from Kolkata, India – Kans Grass (কাশ ফুল, kash phool)
The flesh rises in still early morning like dough that wants to make bread. And I am the one to feel it passing through me into you rising easy as saying I know moves quickly into I knew it—or like after your saying I said oh you ohing
Your heart like a cathedral/covers us in this instant, like the/ sky/and your song, loud and magnificent, and your volcanic/ tenderness, /fills to the roof like a burning statue.
broken teeth. lost retainers. crumpled letters written to counselors
and discarded for illegible handwriting. phone lists of
abortion clinics. deflated valentine’s day balloons with
trampled white ribbon. sales ads on bassinette sets.
In her flesh for half a century, an unhinged sapphire unmarrying.
In honor of what would be Lucie Brock-Broido’s 63rd birthday, we revisit her poem “Inevitably, She Declined,” from our Archives.