six field mice plus one
half blind in the straw darkness
let me stroke their velvet ears
squealing with delight
I ran to show Alice Maude
this trick of trust
vermin
she crushed even the tiniest underfoot
that night I prayed God
would not remember me in Heaven
DANDELION WINE LAMENT
whipsaw eels back and forth
slithering music over you
and the dandelion yellow
blossoms picked lovingly
out of rain-bright fields
now drive boot heels
pistons hammering dents
a quarter-inch deep
in the pine strip floor
no quiet innocents
these weeds shake whitewash
off the cellar wall
THE BEAR'S TOOTH
the bear's tooth
you hung around your neck
came from the head of a more noble beast
boiled dead over a campfire
extracted
from its softened jaws
no threat
its hide wrapped your floors
its flesh fed twin cubs then yours
you wear these talismans
hoping for the same sort of courage
when the time comes
ONE HUNDRED STROKES
bent over Maudie's hair
softly reaches the floor
as she brushes
stroke after stroke comes
Jack's voice sweet and low
from the other side of the door
Irish eyes he sings for hers
amongst the butts and empty jars of morning
even without the rose-orange glow
creeping up and over the early valley
Maude in darkness waits
another hundred strokes
ALL WHITE LACE
only I dream of your dark face
and certain sadness
all white lace and satin
bouquet trailing through
our first summer and all the next
a year of whirlwinds
but by the second year
beseeching you I dug and dug
and finally
planted corn and potatoes
onion soup saw us through
the seven years of lean
until the year when finally I went
but not where you wanted me
where now I clutch cold babies
mine and yours
and poke at ashes in an empty fire
alone and ever after
away past the black hills
in freezing hours I sit
all white lace and satin
DOGS
baying from the hill
always meant another lamb
for slaughter
this time the favourite ewe devoured
and the three inside her
even the coyotes slunk away in shame
dogs left bits of wool
and unborn bone
on spring snow
in the valley Maudie
smells their trail
stealth and stale blood
one lamb left and this one
she stakes beside the stable door
bares its silky throat
under the icy gaze of moon
in darkness waits for shadows
slowly cocks the hammer of her gun
AGONIES OF THE HEART
never did we go down together
to sodden sun-soaked fields
or stand between the door jambs
as the eastern sun made cobwebs
only did we hide ourselves
inside the stiff grey house
where up the tall chimney pipes
I screamed and screamed your dusty name
out of the agonies of my heart
and cried all my love
down panes of glass
neither could I sleep
as the sky flew by
and the fire leaped out of the marshlands
for I knew all of our loves are like dying
crystal clear your face seemed once
YOU
will find me one morning waking
will open wide your eyes
will see my naked unchaste soul
will see the cleft between us two
before I hide it from your gaze
will think my hopeless smile is born of age
will turn again to sleep
THE WEIGHT
was nearly winter when
you moved in
lock stock and babies
but no water
nearest neighbour chained up his well
to stop you getting any
spat at your feet said go
back to the city
back to your husband
back where you belong
your answer became legend in these parts
someone lent a shovel
you dug and dug through autumn earth
hard and cold as a grave
forty feet without a sign
but at forty-one the water flowed
and flowed
no made no signs of jubilance
how easily you carried
the weight of stones on your back
MEN YOU TOOK IN
they still speak
of your particular skill with sheets
when times got tough
up and down your hallways
where they slept
they remember
fresh ones every week
that your hands washed
in water carried up the hill
boiled over your wood fire
scrubbed and wrung till nearly dry
how you scented them with summer
FAMILY TIES
yesterday I sold everything
to pay
the rent the gas the grocer's bills
or so I thought
today I even cut my hair and sold it
tomorrow I will pay
with something else
WE ROOT HUNTERS
paring pruning packing
scavenging in autumn earth
hoe and fork
digging deeper
for gnarled root finger
resisting harvest
scraping steaming stacking
the last jar of summer
preserved tight behind root cellar doors
as November's black brows
bear down
chopping cooking canning
endless days now ended and silent
until again begins the vigil
of the root hunters
waiting watching
until they can return
scraping scratching
to the reluctant soil
THE DONNICK
the scent of gardenias or other florals
were never smelt in our bathroom
Alice Maude had no bright
blue plush or shining chrome
only an up and down
wooden seat covered the drop
straight down
nor anything to while away the time
just one concession
to the donnick squatters
a picture window
eight by ten
looking over her valley
we sat in contemplation
of the mysteries
of many
misty
marshy
mornings
HURRICANE HAZEL
Alice Maude puts on a grim face
and three careful apples
in her black hand bag
come Hell or high water
down to Toronto on the Grey Coach
fetching back her Jack
18 hours to get through
50
miles of wind and wet
only her and the driver
and a woman smelling or orange blossoms
cut each snow apple
into deliberate quarters
unwrapped three squares of chocolate
passed them
into the eye of the storm
TORONTO BUS STATION
in the swing of grime
on double doors
on the rows and rows of leatherette
under the menus
sticky with forgetting
I look even knowing
there's nothing
even the tightness around her eyes
is gone
SNAKESKIN
your hands paper dry
my body shed so long ago
are they still
without me
do they feel the same
cool on some other skin
are you still blind
do you still see
with your tongue?
THE BOX
inside your letters of love
moulder for her eternal
wrapped in tin
impenetrable
like her heart you said
as you broke open the lock
everything yields
to your knife
eventually
THE CISTERN
I could show you pictures
but you would only see
that slim boy
sandy hair
and short pants
not the one who left you
penniless with only old newspapers
stuffed in cracks and holes
to stop the snow drifting in
heaping up on you
while you slept
left you to scavenge in the garbage
for firewood and scurrying noises
and whatever else
not the prodigal son who
put out his cigarette
in your outstretched hand
pushed you down
the gaping cistern hole
held your head
thrashing under the dark water
who left you
for dead this time
I could show you pictures
you were my mother too
THE FIFTH LINE
your dust comes down
the fifth line ridge
hangs rose in the sunset
that turns the green corn gray
the cool stucco of evening
firm against my back
bent all day over the burning
that turns the green corn gray
no lights no words
but sounds
like wheels on gravel
like bottles carried down the drive
the screen door snapping shut
biting on silence
snatching at the dusk
that turns the green corn gray
THE VEAL CALF
how hard Alice Maude had saved
to see this calf sired
a bargain for the best
bull seed in the county
one head too many
too heavy for four feet
good for one thing only
when it was finally born
MEDICINE MAUDE
cowboys they were playing
the sister captured
her arms outstretched
John aimed the shotgun
never thinking it was loaded
blew a hole
next to Brigid's head
so big
I could see right through her arm
Brigid spilled
her bright blood that day
on my Alice Maude's lace tablecloth
John outside white as death
retched into the lush dark purple
of the prize peonies
Alice Maude inside
laid on her hands
spoke softly around the shatters
packed the hole with cotton
bound it up
in her best white linen
only then called the doctor
it was weeks before he said
Brigid would keep her arm
no mystery to Alice Maude
LAVENDER OF LILAC
your colour falls
each spring on these lands
with you long gone
can't catch the blossoms
in your apron
or the whispers of the pine grove
the breath of spring
the boom of bullfrogs
untrappable
like the morning mist
under Suicide Hill
or the red dawns you always feared
each year I pick a blossom
to forget you
but not your colour
lavender of lilac
CONSIDERING THESE TIMES, BETTY
considering these times, Betty
tell yourself
there's nothing to be done
dream all you want but
that won't put
your support on the table
reading writing and arithmetic
you already know too well
it's time you earned your keep
and keep you did
at it from dawn till dusk
like her
until your fine freckled arm
withered like a crone's
you only sweet sixteen
considering these times, Betty
TALL ELMS
tall elms along my lanes of youth
shadowed me like strangers
I later knew
their disease became mine
but when it fell it was as giants
I only withered in years
SISTERS: HELEN
people thought they were twins
but Alice Maude said Helen
was the beauty
sweet in her dark red hair
a grey spot
already at each temple
lived near here
in a house so old and drafty
they never could keep the lamps lit
by the time she had her sixth
there was
not even a sheet to cover her
that Christmas they cooked
a can of peas over a candle
and ate in the dark
Alice Maude knocked and knocked
on the door
but they never answered
WAITING
beneath these sheets of light and snow
we wait together
through the winter of your coming
a full moon rising from my belly
blowing hard towards the summer
a strong wind across the drifts
late on a day of green
in the season of roses
you will knock at this house
in swaddling clothes
stained with the rust of a long journey
sure of your destination
RED HAIR AND FRECKLES
so big I could hardly climb the thresher
Marge heaved me up from behind
as you pushed from inside
just before noontime
you exploded out of the flashing blades
on the horses' last turn
I fell and like a dog
lay gasping at the earth and sky
onto the sweetness
of the fresh cut field
Marge held me through the blackness
until the wagon came
and you swam
out of my river of blood
even your hair was
the colour of bloody straw
your face and hands
splattered with it forever
SONATA FOR TWO
I held I my arms
this gray morning
my child listening
as a robin sang
through first light
>
one of Beethoven's sonatas
BABY'S BREATH
just the sight of baby's breath
in the fields makes you weep
for your children's lengthening footsteps
for their little lips mouthing in sleep
dreaming the taste of your breasts
filled with the smell of innocence
ALICE MAUDE'S BETTY
spring stink of dog
sweetening her lungs
Alice Maude's Betty lay down
in the bones and scraps
of last year
unwound
her bright hair
in the April snow
so it spread
like gossamer
wings down her back
at the edge
of a moth-eaten hill
the sand sparrows saw
Alice Maude's Betty
lean out
towards the steaming valley
waiting
gnawed by the lonely thunder
of the sky
SOUNDS OF FLESH AND SPIRIT
fearful I waited
through all those years you lived
and lived with joy
yet knowing
why gypsies closed your outstretched palm
they read the fortune in your face
and you recognized
their prophecy of silence
wakeful I listened in the rattle of your breath
until I heard the sounds
flesh and spirit
slipping off your grateful bones
the wolves grieved
loud for you that night
no moon to lead them
up Suicide Hill and through
such rain as never thrashed
the roofs and field before
softening the spring ground for you
later I stood between birds and dripping pines
held flowers to the waiting sky