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Grace MatternThe Tappan ZeeBlue broken bluer by the tint
of windshield and sunglasses a river of trees, leaves waving hands along the parkway. Outside this cockpit of cooled air and road hum sun sharpens the day, our hope for a clear bridge as we cross wide water, the next state a steep bank ahead. We move fast, beating our own time and age as generations unpeel caring and caretaking in the same bed which is two beds pushed together in the room where we’ll sleep, a tight crack between us. AugustHorses come to the railing. Your hand
reaches to trace white fur ruffled along a nose, my hand smooths a mane, you stroke an ear, our hands fondle muted light on broad shoulders, sun-silk as warm on our necks as our breath when we call each other to the fence, our skill with the familiar boundary, how we gather the long gallop in each other. The horses turn from us to race across grass crushed to dust, through an open gate. |
Grace Mattern’s poetry and prose have been published widely including in The Sun, Calyx, Prairie Schooner andYankee. She received fellowships from the NH Arts Council and Vermont Studio Center and has been nominated for Best of the Net and Pushcart Prizes. Her book The Truth About Death won the NH Readers’ Choice Award for Outstanding Work of Poetry. She has been deeply involved in the movement to end violence against women for over 35 years, and is currently working on a memoir. She blogs at www.gracemattern.com. |