Tuesday, April 25, 2006

NaPoWriMo 14

I know why Emily went indoors,
why she kneeded hot yeast like flesh,
probing with her rapid hands, tense and stretch.

I know why she chose the kitchen window
view for the passing fair, dusk til dawn.
Or midday labor - the neighbor’s funeral.

I know why she kept to herself, the myth
of Amherst, sacrificing paradise
for the white heat, her mute crucifixion.

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