TPQ OnLine
poetry by Amy Wright


Our Muse, like a Mascot
for the poet Dwight Okita

comes gold-glittered and silent.
soft breath in our one-man tent,
a lung we crawl inside,
small as dusk-born rabbits.

It comes as a reminder, the shiver
of walking on our own graves.

You watch a robin's nest in strong wind,
say, "We are sewn in so lightly."
I bury my arms elbow-deep in the potato bin.

It comes with an interpreter:
a best friend, Cove Creek, the couple at the drive-in,
with bits of city still in their hair.

It comes in the musk of old Bibles,
the twinge of dandelion wine,
a cleanly broken boulder.

Back in the kitchen,
we ladle steaming minestrone and wait.

Copyright © 1997 by Amy Wright

Amy Wright is a web designer working outside Washington, D.C. She graduated from the University of Virginia and is considering graduate school in international journalism. She gets her mail at awright@casact.org.

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