by Wendy Battin
Who dresses Diana every morning,
from the waist up,
from the waist down?
In the name of the moon goddess,
virgin and hunter,
every day the same, . . .
by Kelly Cherry
And so I read and wrote, and tried to say what love means. I tried to make waiting an activity. I studied Latvian. But often enough I just stared out the window at the tree, as if the future might at any moment fly in and roost on a branch. The dark question was, What kind of a future would it be, anyway? Would they let Imant be in it? The last week of the year, every magazine I picked up contained a horoscope for the New Year. Mine said: Right off the bat, things will go wrong. It wasn’t kidding, because things went wrong on the second of January.
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