from GOSPEL NIGHT (BOA EDITIONS) >
Romania, 1989
She cradles the rag-swathed, 40-watt bulb Like a hand-painted egg in woolen gloves With holes scissored at forefinger and thumb For turning pages in the icy nook.
The library looms beyond gritty drifts,
Past blood-soaked slats and the empty, grease-glossed Hooks beckoning from butcher shop windows.
Last week she began reading Ethan Frome ,
A donated copy—some Fulbright profs—
And felt that New England snowscape her own,
But the volumes vanished between visits.
She hopes Ethan chose love over duty.
Still, she can’t bring herself to steal a book;
Ceau§escu won’t be shot until Christmas.
She scours shelves for American novels—
Overhead bulbs fizzled out years ago—
Then finds the harrowing tale of a slave That makes her bulb seem to surge with power Hour after hour in the cold cubicle.
(A decade later she’ll meet the author.)
Sixteen now, she can’t anticipate much,
Except to be loved as she loves these books.
for Mihaela
Nominated by Michael Bowden, William Heyen, Nancy Mitchell, BJ Ward, David Rigsbee