Je Suis Heureuse Ici
In magazine dreams
the sun swells to rupture.
Half a minute is enough
between possibilities.
In the tender skin of summer.
a perennial of flowers
edge the bed where we dream.
No awkwardness of sentiment
is necessary in this place of generosity
where language is raised to song.
Postcard
Arrived safely alone.
The journey long, an arrow
still lodged in my chest
blood filling my ears.
Here among the wild raspberries
the air is pure and I
have a clear view.
A plunge into a spring-fed lake
was baptismal. I was right
to come here. But it is no place
for you. You are as changeable
as this Vermont sky
and your pin-striped suit
too delicate for these woods.
I have become immutable
like this green mauve-hued mountain.
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