If I could—
By using only past tense
I would tell you precisely what happened.
While I punch and push to add anew
It will become long and old like something you can trust.
When my father took us on a trip to … view
Christmas Eve to Lambertville with
Hank what knits me still to this
world of purls &
back-dragging Delaware eddies as
grey under fog darkened silver in coiling
banks when late the raining early dark–& sycamores
across the river in quick high bundles … view
Everything is too much.
forth to back
long slow slight ripples.
Time happens all around.
One looks up,
One stops everything.
He says the potential hides inside;
the upbringing won’t let it go.
He says go into Brooklyn bars and take notes
on the interesting stories people tell while they’re drunk
as if I did not already know the drunkest story;
mother retches into … view
Miriam C. Jacobs
An ice storm is coming.
They park the car near Oakland Cemetery and set out walking
toward the old, dead railroad,
embracing there, in the cold,
and she remembers her first snowflake,
a wheel, lit upon the sleeve
of her father’s … view