Excerpt from Among Women
Part of the Body
It's not that her blouse
isn't opening.
If I say anything
I'm a liar. It's just
nobody
lives here.
Or
it's late.
Or I'm tired. Maybe
lie
down lightly
or
sideways,
go back home
before
dinner.
I can only bear
one part of the body
at
a time,
the
fear the fear and the fear
Woman Undressing
Sometimes I will stand up and leave.
And, another time, I will remain but only stay
so long. There's a moment I am mad with grief,
seeing no one. Close my eyes and glimpse
a glint of light lying down in a field.
Because One Is Always Leaving
Especially
in
the late afternoon,
when
my nieces
close their eyes
and
bend
their
heads
to inhale
the
bubbles that rise
from
the tall glasses
of milk,
licking
the juice
off
their lips
that open
on
the softened
black-and-white cookies
that have been
dipped
into
the glass
and then dipped
again,
sopping
with cream,
I like to think
about
stopping
the
passage of time —
not a bird,
not
a branch
in
bloom,
not an insect
stirring
in
the still grasses and ferns.
Copyright 2001 by Jason Shinder. All rights reserved.
