Today's poem is by Daneen Bergland
Beloved & Stranger
What of the dog that died in the middle of the road
& the hardware store & the bicycle spilled & a head cracked open.
She could never tell you why she was crying
but Victoria knows & the steep bank up from a dark river.
These mornings together are a kind of surrender.
No matter, only meaning caught out of the corner.
What falls away from the outside
of the conversation loops back up and in and out of sight like light
reflecting off a wristwatch.
My daughter my daughter my daughter until I've picked up the thread again.
There is no track to stay on, only this sidewalk. It's full of cracks. It's intimate.
The way you point each one out & wonder who made it & I
wonder along. The way you hum when you breathe but never say
All the red cars are hers & each
has a story & a porch. How your mother came back
from a broken neck.
How they fished her out like a boot from black water.
They say people are dead all the time
when they aren't.
I am the lady again. I think I must look
blurry through your sugar-bent eyes.
The one who drinks just one cup of coffee, for whom it is always such a nice day.
Last week I was your sister and sold your house to a shady neighbor.
How the mind slows down like a winter housefly
sewing smaller & slower squares to the center of a room.
I will find them desiccated and scattered on the sill like runes.
Copyright © 2007 Daneen Bergland All rights reserved
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission
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