Water moved one way.
You dug.

For outer space
the body learns to move

like a painter
seeing the unseen.

When you buried her
away from you, the river

moved one way.
Christ was in the tree.

 

 

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Laurie Lamon’s poems have appeared in The Atlantic, New Republic, Arts & Letters, Plume, Ploughshares, North American Review, and others. Her two poetry collections are The Fork Without Hunger and Without Wings (both from CavanKerry). Recipient of a Pushcart Prize, she was selected by Donald Hall as a Witter Bynner Fellow.