Sample poem from Lucinda Watson's THE FAVORITE
I’ve Found Her Lost Again
In the dusky, damp hour of summer when wine
is poured and in the distance neighbors
bicker over their barbeque, the husband saying
it’s not his job to clean it and clattering
the domed lid over
five pounds of grade A beef.
The wisteria, desperately holding itself open
to possibility and the dogs roam barking, their
tongues sloppy with grass. The birds, repeaters,
warble from tree to tree, trying to vary their story,
back and forth, back and forth, so bored with each other.
In the yard a pool filled with azure water, an aquarium of
tears, piss, semen, a pure rectangle, a holding pond of life,
there, lying on the surface, on the great,
pink, plasticized, inflatable swan floating unguarded,
there’s a girl. She could be 19 or 70. She’s listening to
the opera of summer, writing a bird libretto, her fingers
holding the minute hand on the clock of time, suspended
by the undercurrent of oboe, she knows she’s different.
She feels every rhythm