Adrienne Rich





Ever Again

Mockingbird shouts Escape! Escape!
and would I could   I’d 

fly, drive back to that house 
up the long hill between queen 

anne’s lace and common daisyface 
shoulder open stuck door 

run springwater from kitchen 
tap   drench tongue 

palate and throat
throw window sashes up screens down 

breathe in   mown grass 
pine-needle heat 

manure, lilac   unpack 
brown sacks from the store: 

ground meat, buns, tomatoes, one 
big onion, milk and orange juice 

iceberg lettuce, ranch dressing 
potato chips, dill pickles 

the Caledonian-Record
Portuguese rosé in round-hipped flask 

open the box of newspapers by the stove 
reread: (Vietnam Vietnam) 

Set again on the table 
the Olivetti, the stack 

of rough yellow typing paper 
mark the the crashed instant 

of one summer’s mosquito 
on a bedroom door 

voices of boys outside 
proclaiming twilight and hunger 

Pour iced vodka into a shotglass 
get food on the table 

sitting with those wild heads 
over hamburgers, fireflies, music 

staying up late with the typewriter 
falling asleep with the dead