Poetry Thursday: Sarah Browning

Oh dear.

This week I had my head so far up between the rounded portions of the anatomy located on the posterior of the pelvic region that I narrowly missed missing Poetry Thursday by 10 minutes.

That is too close for comfort.

Equally close--and infinitely more comforting--is the presence now in the blogosphere of my geographic near-neighbor Sarah Browning. Check out her young blog and offer praise.

So here goes.

THE FULLNESS, THE BEES

The spring I could not walk
my husband parked me ten long steps
from an apple tree, the baby sleeping
oblivious to what he had cost me.

I climbed from the car
and stumbled my way across
the scrabby lawn to stand
under the fullness, the bees.
I had to find a branch to hold
so I could live in that white
and test it with the pain
that had taken over my body.

I have feared so much pleasure--
a face full of lilacs, something
as petty as an apple tree.

I had watched the spring
from my chair by the glass door--
watched and wanted and now,
this tree, indifferent, white
like a promise, mistake, a walker--
what the spring knows.

More of Sarah's work is here.