ÿþ<html> <head> <meta http-equiv=content-type content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1"> <title>slope 16</title> <style type="text/css"> p,td { font-family: "georgia", "arial", "helvetica"; text-decoration:none; font-size:11px; color:#000000; margin-top:9px; margin-bottom:9px;} p.poem { font-family: "georgia", "arial", "helvetica"; text-decoration:none; font-size:11px; color:#000000; margin-top:40px; margin-bottom:60px;} a { font-family: "georgia", "arial", "helvetica"; text-decoration:none; font-size:11px; color:#77280a; } a:hover { font-family: "georgia", "arial", "helvetica"; text-decoration:underline; font-size:11px; color:#77280a; } </style> </head> <body bgcolor="#ffffff" background="images/bg.gif" topmargin="0" leftmargin="0" marginwidth="0" marginheight="0"> <table border="0" width="750" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" align="center"> <tr> <td> <object classid="clsid:d27cdb6e-ae6d-11cf-96b8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=4,0,0,0" width="750" height="127" id="topmenu" align=""> <param name=movie value="topmenu.swf"> <param name=quality value=high> <param name=bgcolor value=#ffffff> <embed src="topmenu.swf" quality=high bgcolor=#ffffff width="750" height="127" name="topmenu" align="" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer"></embed> </object> </td> </tr> <tr> <td> <img src="images/page_top.gif" /><br /> </td> </tr> <tr> <td background="images/page_bg.gif" style="padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 50px; padding-right: 50px;"> <img src="images/title_new.gif" /> <p><b>Sharon Kraus</b> s books include <u>Strange Land</u> (University Press of Florida, 2002), which was a finalist in the 2000 National Poetry Series, and <u>Generation</u> (Alice James Books, 1997). Her poems have appeared in <i>Barrow Street, Massachusetts Review, Georgia Review, TriQuarterly, Agni</i> and elsewhere. She has received a fellowship from the MacDowell Colony, an Editors' Choice award from <i>Columbia: A Magazine of Literature and Art</i>, and a group of new poems were selected as a finalist in the 2002 Center for Book Arts Chapbook Competition.</p> <p class="poem"> <b>How I wonder what you are <i>(sung)</i></b><br /> <br /> <br /> among the initial human impulses<br /> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;we sob when we wake&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;alone<br /> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;the light line of&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;bereft<br /> horizon<br /> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;into which rises<br /> <br /> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;oh, that s a scaffold<br /> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;the building being built&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;bones<br /> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;(planks, sheeting)<br /> <br /> you sob until you are joined<br /> <br /> <br /> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;[Where a week ago in a workday<br /> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; scaffolding snapped and a man<br /> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;(he had been welding<br /> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; disparate parts into a)]<br /> <br /> <br /> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The boy s watching builders, tools, the orange<br /> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; earthmovers&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;one does not like to ask him to<br /> <br /> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;sunder himself from the / beloved&nbsp;&nbsp; rendering<br /> <br /> <br /> Sometimes his eyes remain closed&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; as he cries with his mouth Mama-Mama<br /> <br /> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;what shape is permitted entry<br /> <br /> <br /> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;but later, on the sidewalk, I am not that.<br /> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Right breast stinging&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;bear the still-milk<br /> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;thataway<br /> <br /> <br /> Call him My child&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;what s definite what s possessive<br /> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; [The windowframe in the wall&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; The man dying on the sidewalk<br /> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;and who to _____]<br /> <br /> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Inside artisans are painting clouds and a full<br /> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;onto the night<br /> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;( the sculptor does not die for her art &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;she makes<br /> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; a stainless steel spider&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The work is called  Maman )<br /> <br /> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;(up the ladder one lightly speckled painter<br /> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;calls down <i>He should be up here helping</i><br /> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;as though the boy (trans<br /> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; fixed) cannot hear<br /> <br /> the impulse is to gaze drinkingly upon the beauty<br /> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;or the ______&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;to stay at the feet of<br /> where you cannot enter&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; its blue prelude )<br /> <br /> call it loyal call it labile<br /> <br /> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;finally one of us consents to go when Another says<br /> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Do you want to paint a moon?&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Let s go home then<br /> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;and do that.<br /> </p> <p class="poem"> <b>Study in Movement</b><br /> <br /> <br /> The man punching holes in the air.<br /> You would like to consult someone about this<br /> <br /> urge to draw the veil before<br /> your child<br /> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;has tasted too much madness<br /> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;(he s eating tuna-sandwich on the summer<br /> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; bench)<br /> <br /> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;When you pushed his shoulders back onto the bed<br /> shouting Just go to sleep<br /> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;(But you had thought you could feed your child a different<br /> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; diet)<br /> <br /> How easy to pack up and leave yellow-shirted strangers&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; [That he reaches out for you<br /> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The boy, though, says  Man furrowedly&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; anyway instead&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; ]<br /> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;And the man lies down on his stone slab and says<br /> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Sweet <br /> <br /> <br /> You are familiar with the bursting out after a stillness<br /> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Fill the toy with enough sand and the bucket tips to turn<br /> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; the wheel<br /> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Your mother filled with her nine calm days would speed to her churning<br /> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; pool&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; [sparring hard against<br /> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;her shadowed child]<br /> <br /> So you wipe his mouth slowly and mildly<br /> push the stroller as though you feared neither ravings nor yourself<br /> <br /> <br /> *<br /> <br /> <br /> You lift the shirt over your face<br /> to re-<br /> appear. Which shows the child<br /> how he might grow to love<br /> your broken presence<br /> He enjoys this gesture and uses it<br /> to indicate his imminent departure.<br /> He likes it when you call longingly for him.<br /> <br /> <br /> *<br /> <br /> <br /> So what s the logic here?<br /> <br /> Before all that afternoon<br /> and in between the mother-burstings<br /> <br /> he bent to the cosmos of the sidewalk ants<br /> and would not leave them. The mother counseling gentleness,<br /> mustn t touch-ness. The ants<br /> were hurrying off to get their lunch.<br /> <br /> And before all that afternoon<br /> the white-haired man on the subway<br /> combing the thick strands<br /> carefully with a plastic fork. White, a different white. His sack of clothes<br /> at his feet. He s watching his combing in a brass plaque<br /> at the top of the subway stairs. If one had to do without mirrors. You hold the child up<br /> to mirrors invariably saying Who s that<br /> to enact for him the pleasure of the first meeting.<br /> Climbing toward West Broadway you want to enshawl the old man s shoulders<br /> with your inner arm, the soft you can muster,<br />  That s lovely. That s such nice combing. <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> They ve discovered eleven more moons<br /> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;clamoring around Jupiter s knees. Which<br /> were there all along.<br /> </p> </td> </tr> <tr> <td> <img src="images/page_bottom.gif" /><br /> </td> </tr> </table> </body> </html>