Aug., 2014—8 year-old girl killed by fall in Yellowstone
“Closer to the edge”—the need for
Perspective. Wrinkled hollows
Of the canyon of the lower Yellowstone.
He loved shadow and frame,
How the overhanging jagged branch
Of jackpine against which I posed
Implied the romance of needle and cone
Set contrary to a Kodachrome sky.
That I was leery clutching hard
The rough limb was beside
The point of pleasing him.
Obedient child.The pretense
0f fearlessness solemnized
My profile. All my life
I’ve hated heights, remembering
The distant thunder of the falls
Preserved in the photograph
Froth frozen mid-air like the child
At the boundary, gazing elsewhere.
You are forbidden nuts, seeds, and berries.
Berries that you love. Fat red hearts
Or the tiny wild ones that are sweeter.
I walk through the patch where they shine
Like tears of blood. The raspberry canes,
A wealth of onyx. Jeweled brains
Of dark passion. You’d pour handfuls
Upon your morning cereal to float
Like small black mollies in a creamy ocean.
I yearn to fill my pail
But tantalizing you is only kind
When it results in fucking.
So I blind myself to temptation,
This glut of lusciousness I must
Leave behind for the birds.