One Of The Duties Of A Baseball

Poems Come From Ordinary Experiences And Objects, I Think. Out Of Memory - A Dress I Lent My Daughter On Her Way Back To College; A Newspaper Photograph Of War; A Breast Self-exam; The Tooth Fairy; Calvinist Parents Who Beat Up Their Children; A Gesture Of Love; Seeing Oneself Naked Over Age 50 In A Set Of Bright Hotel Bathroom Mirrors.

... Sometimes I Can Feel It, The Way We Are Pouring Slowly Toward A Curve And Around It Through Something Dark And Soft, And We Are Bound To Each Other.

I Wish I Wrote More About The World At More Distance From Myself.

I Have Never Thought I Could Take It, Not Even For The Children. It Is All I Have Wanted To Do, To Stand Between Them And And Pain. But I Come From A Long Line Of Women Who Put Themselves First.

I Was A Late Bloomer. But Anyone Who Blooms At All, Ever, Is Very Lucky.