ANNE HEIDE

from Wiving

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

from WIVING

 

 

 

make her a body

new where she can

carry nothing

and cleanly

 

make me a wife

out of plaster

and shoestring.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

could she have stopped herself from growing

 

from an inevitable pair

 

to an uneven third.

 

 

if will would unmake.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

try to pen

the crevice

 

that lines her legs.

 

buckets bailed,

 

and the rest of

her here.

 

 

 

 

she is flooding, see:      in the greenyard.

 

call her to my fence.

 

make a veil of it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

this wife is a wife

for your white legs

never widowed.

 

count two that make

your shape, then hers.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

she is not as you would

think suffocating she has

resigned herself to swallow

the key and hatch herself

open.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

shake me brittle

from your wrap

sleep against my tremors 

 

call me into you again

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I'll tell you like it no longer

matters that you are half-made

 

I want to see you through your living

room window tending to your broken children

mending

 

tending to your sick son I want to see you

through your living room window

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

this is not a requiem for her but her escape

this is her escape she wants

him to grow into a fixture

that she can delicately tend            and I would take it. readily.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

she introduces her children

(heel sinking into the mud)

to her buried relatives

and that small stone initialed

is where her feet are

 

this is the start     if

her hands hadn't wrapped around

him in the bathtub if he'd had

that diving reflex this could all be.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

please he says      let me in again

I'll hold everything and misplace nothing

for you.

 

 

I will not let you I will let you in only

if you promise let me in I'll

say anything if only you promise to

not hold that bottle against me

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

she has locked the door again their

house is half built and there is no

wall to the bedroom but he sleeps

outside anyway passed out on the

sinking stoop, wood like wet plaster.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

how her ghost was made

with hands sticking

to the sides

 

how he

wrote her on his leg

and left it there.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

try to set her up

against the wall lean

her there I'd like

 

instead to place

her children there

breathing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

let's not let anyone in

 

her

 

she's quiet let's keep

 

it that way.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

there is no problem here the

wife is in the bathtub circling soap

around the edge.

 

 

she is bathing the ceramic,

children file in, bees against

the floor.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

pregnant again her arms

 

can be sore so hum into

 

them says the doctor

 

and they'll undo themselves

 

from you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

she can find him stopped

feeding something to her

children, gin, and holding their necks

back against his stomach.

 

she can, but stays inside.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I am here to remove her

anyway. she is too light.

 

this is the building where

we can find her and then

find her.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

bring her leg to me, slightly, and I'll etch.

 

what

 

noise made her capture:

 

 

hands of sugar

hands of legs.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

be in that house, dark, and I'll rescue.

 

and in that bed, ache, and she'll undo.

 

 

or else could she silence: open mouth and tourniquet.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

one at a time, into the house

the children will eat themselves

large until the doorframe gives

to their passing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

at every age she'll bury

small animals in the yard.

 

this for companion

and this for food.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

stay in the water, she isn't done floating.

 

try on these stones

and string

yourself into a papery house.

 

there her sons are hoping the rocks

will make some noise.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

you cannot really fit her in your

legs

 

a mistake was made

this is not prosthetic

 

children made of legs

and children made of children.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

gestate in me

 

I cannot make you with your heady gasp.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I'm here to lean by the wife-side,

if you'll not fix her, straighten then, her blouse.

 

and take her children for children to sleep.