THE WEATHER HERE
for Heather McHugh
When the tough get going, I'm left here alone
in this limited part of the planet.
They write that their new addresses are better,
that I wouldn't think so, and that all is well
with me. 0 I want to believe them, there's
no sense in relying on first-hand experience
now that I take drugs strong enough to relax
a building. I don't want to look at
the bracelet of scars I started, and boy was I
disappointed that the blood didn't come up blue
like it is under my skin. The weather here
is nice, final. I have some plans, but they're small.
Bill Elliott
LETTER TO MY FATHER-IN-LAW I
Because you spoke there,
in the Rocky Mountains, away from the sea,
and her mother went
to
school to Denver
She clearly shys away, for me, for her;
You are still the thighs and head she strokes,
waving through a Ph.D. while snapping out
a divorce, teaching while our heads balded together
in different generations: you have four fine books; I
take my hat off to you, sir, and read my bad reviews.
Your daughter, sir, I love.
She lies away from me, the back of her head
in my eyes like the curls of my son's blond hair:
she holds her thighs away today
in her usual fetal position, and makes the weekend
bed all mine.
We are scared, and frightened: note both meanings.
I love who is so angry
