Genetic
1.
Ash-good-sharp-love
is the word for needle
the nurse says
in another client’s language
this is for genetic testing
she says
sign here
2.
when we were little
we went swimming swimming
every day
a pond with deep green algae
a garden spilled with weeds
Caravaggio would have seen
the shadows I
saw only heat waves, humidity
a dog panting
an overblown pink rose
my shirt a t-shirt
my skin red
peeling down to white
3.
Now we live outside
DC NYC LA
a set of initials
is not a home
when our parents died
we had them cremated
we burnt the old house
to the ground
then like the old cowboy
story—we got up on
our high horse
& rode the other way
4.
My daughter’s
school lets out
to crows chasing an owl
they are nothing to me—
loud caws
shit
unless they are ravens
they don’t belong in any poem
I have my standards
Miss Wisconsin, my daughter says,
reading the flyer, What do
you bet her hair is blond?
5.
Behind the reader at one book store—
self-help books
at this one—literary criticism
Is anything implied here?
6.
as the plane went down
the paper said
it was quiet as a library—
a library hushed
as a falling plane
how many have of us
have fallen?
so quietly—so far
7.
Yes I had a father,
I tell the nurse
no he’s not alive—
heart attack no history of cancer
A mother, dead too—
cancer
a sister—cancer—living still
grandfather, grandmother,
grandfather—cancer,
cancer, cancer
my father’s mother?
he always said
she swam away
Ash-good-sharp-love
she sticks the needle
in my vein
8.
What can you say about
your life in
so little space?
What will your daughter’s
daughter say?
Jesse Lee Kercheval is the author of twelve books of poetry, fiction, and memoir, including the poetry collection Cinema Muto (SIU Press 2009), winner of the Crab Orchard Open Selection Award, and the poetry collection Dog Angel (U of Pittsburgh Press, 2004). Her novel My Life as a Silent Movie is forthcoming from the Indiana University Press. She is a professor in the creative writing program at the University of Wisconsin.
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