Research: Journals
The Journal
Past Issues
28.2
Mary Giaimo
DirtShe had a long body
with cords in it.
She scolded like a house sparrow
in the morning
in the evening on her knees
a black flower
her throat hummed a vespers sparrow.
At night I rubbed all over her like wood oil.
She heaved like pudding.
All my darkness my
father called.
I heard the cracking of trees growing.
This is Lake Pontchartrain in a
swamp night.
I knew her bones were pulling, that way
she could get tall and step over the Lake
in one step
gone from me. Stilt woman.
Silt woman.
Bullfrogs chuckle.
All her darkness
her kiss.
