The Infinitesimals. Laura Kasischke

dinner. While something

      struggled under the water,

      bound by ropes.

      And the warm milk dribbled down the sick man’s chin.

      And the wife, the mother, the daughter, the hostess, and those

      few people on Earth she would ever wish were dead

      were the ones she loved the most.

The Emptying of the Censers

      And operated on her brain.

      And moved around the very

      stones of that foundation.

      And poured fire into a lake.

      And then stood by

      whistling at the sky. Bad

       news, I’m afraid. Sit

       down if you like.

      Later, I found her

      in the farthest North. Five

      thousand miles of train

      tracks away, wearing

      a black cap lined

      with stars and planets, at

      the vastest edge

      of that northern forest

      where the question

      of distance

      is answered by time. She

      did not look surprised. I

       wasn’t expecting you

      so late, she said, her

      words set to music:

      motherhood, that

      grand opera

      staged in a cave.