Wednesday, February 16, 2011

Dizziness and Shudder

Maura Shuttleworth, 1986

Dizziness and Shudder

Like a footsore cowgirl dragging a saddle,
my daughter comes from school.  You've got
snuff-breath, she says, kissing my cheek.

With acrylics, she spreads out a deathscape:
a pewter cottonwood, snow falling in whorls,
a brain-colored Wolfhound chewing grass.

I think this is the true way Pup died
of bloat, she tells me, and brushes in
a sun the color of bloody bedclothes.

This poem first appeared in Mississippi Valley Review, edited by John Mann, in the Fall/Winter 1985-1986 issue.

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