Stein - Terrible Blooms

Gummow Steven Myron Holl Phil Kovacevich and Eric Wechsler Lakeside Industries, Inc. on behalf of Jeanne Marie Lee Maureen Lee and Mark Busto Rhoady Lee and Alan Gartenhaus Ellie Mathews and Carl Youngmann as The North Press Anne ODonnell and John Phillips Petunia Charitable Fund and advisor Elizabeth Hebert Suzie Rapp and Mark Hamilton Emily and Dan Raymond Jill and Bill Ruckelshaus Cynthia Lovelace Sears and Frank Buxton Kim and Jeff Seely Dan Waggoner Barbara and Charles Wright The dedicated interns and faithful volunteers of Copper Canyon Press TO LEARN MORE ABOUT UNDERWRITING COPPER CANYON PRESS TITLES, PLEASE CALL 360-385-4925 EXT. 103 [ i ] Harder If youre going to storm, I said, do it harder. Pummel nests from limbs and drown the furred things in their dens. Swell creek to flood, unhome the fish. Everythings gone too cozy.

Winnow, flush. Lets see whats got the will. Lets watch whats tender choke or breathe. Try to make a mark on me. Beast Tadpole with legs. Hawk with a long tail that is a snake dangling from its beak.

The apple limb grafted to the plum tree, blue Mustang with the dull white hood, Ken with the head of Barbie. The boy with a new plump fist of heart or kidney or some shining pins or discs or a thick, imperative tube fastening a mechanism of breath. Whats wrong with me is you. blessings may your harvest fit in a sack may none of your apples be sweet may barbed wire tear off the snouts of your pigs may the mirror show the scarecrows face the moon shine on your wedding day may the milliner embroider your bonnet with nettles the blackberry fell your dog may your every joy grow a carbuncle may your eyes go to milk may the moth make its nest in your bedclothes the wind blow sickness in your ears may your husband leave you for a crone may his mother season your cooking from the grave may corncrakes gnaw your sour bones a shadow fall across your shadow the mice lay their eggs in the mouths of your children your children have the blacksmiths eyes may tracks lead hunters to your door your fingers melt like candles may you succumb to gods terrible kittens may the wolf carry off the heart of your heart and the swans swim thrice by your grief Birthstone Facedown in carpet, arm pinned behind me. Oh, opal. Oh, tourmaline.

Oh emerald of the cool, cool shade. A jewel is buried in this pile I will find it with my teeth. Pearl from grit wrought me. Do you know I have hopscotch and dandelion, weathervane, watering can. I have a story, I am skipping out into whiteblue checkered yes that is an apron, edged in rickrack, whipped by wind into the shape of my mother. The sun behind her.

Cut out of that light with pinking shears, steps out with face and whole hands, entire: that old apron wrapped twice around my waist, kitchen soldier, jade milk-glass mixing bowl wire whisk and sifter, the floured board, the doughs shagged fistdoes it hurt, does it bruise, would you hand me a nasturtium, its orange burnt bitter carnelian, mouthful oh where is that jewel Heir Tables heaped with meat and fruit. Plates laden with roasted juice and what lies leaking it. He grabs a fist of serviceberries and purples his lips. At the last she lay blue and bloated as a frogs upturned belly in the moat. His reign stoppered in her. All the sapphires and gilt.