/ Michigan quarterly review: Vol. 35, No. 2
362 MICHIGAN QUARTERLY REVIEW of long grass from my neighbor's garden. We walk for hours, then find ourselves on the bank of the Charles, the water blacker than any country clearing, so still I can almost feel the gentle resistant turning of the earth. I take it all in, the lights of Boston across the bridge, the Citgo sign repeating endlessly, and the pull of his fingers in my hair is heavy like falling into still water. How quiet the world is, and complicated. LOVE, IN THIS CENTURY You fall asleep before me. I go on watching the late night movie about the couple so much in love, they turn into blazing headlines. He loves her, then kills her. I move closer toward your sleeping body; it's your breathing which calms me. But in the dark, all I can see is her face, her hands, that wide grin and how she went so willingly into those woods, believing they were only looking for wildflowers.
Top of page Top of page