« Gregory Lawless talks with Jennifer H. Fortin | Contents | Arielle Guy »

Genevieve Kaplan

The great strong man


under the tallest tree, inside the largest forest. with a halo of nets

in the clearing, from the path (from the stand), our surrounds

around us. despite what we read, the fences, the beautiful

shade, the cracks wide enough to squeeze through. (the ever-widening

holes. we could gaze there forever)

            will benefit from some time away

perhaps, drinking in the green and brown so nothing would be stronger

then, broader than, the selection (of trees) we see here, no pity. no passing 

without looking up. no silence from the stream. and the movement

in the trees, the rustle in the ground, picking up the (nails. the strewn things)

and so I would begin to disappear.

            the angles lit-up and the fence poles (arms)

(abutting our very site. what we’ve determined is common ground) in the place

we’ve sent ourselves (to grow a little older in), to peer from, the waiting

room (abounding with gnats. the flit of the moth and the mosquito)

forgot to be shameful. forgot to hide since we see through to sky

all here together, tree, they could see us



With tools and wrought fences, pergolas


On the back patio, children in the bedrooms with wet eyes, with dark hands.

And the sun peeking out, even through the cool, through the parted clouds.

We’d lived there before, left and returned, not liking the alternative.

Liking the safety of it, the climate, the relative ease, liking speaking the language.

Or trying to, or being waited on by animals, or reigning in their small noises.

Liking the emotion, left there in the courtyard.

Opening up into treed spaces, green valleys, a decision.



The old house, the frame of it, as we think about nesting here


The wind veered while we were at dinner

as the landscape turned frankly




At the base of the hill, lolling pines, tiny noises

hanging there within.

No possibilities in the low sun, sweeping entry, tablecloths

flapping under the awning.



Eyeing the ledges, drawn forward and along and nearer

and nearer that edge, eyeing

ever that way west and nearer and nearer that edge—


« Gregory Lawless talks with Jennifer H. Fortin | Contents | Arielle Guy »