STRAIGHT THROUGH TO CZECHOSLOVAKIA
Driving east in the bower of an apple-green
returned spring
as rain wet everything quickly
and the fields, opening,
received their seed, I thought:
have I brought our daughter this far east
to learn there are places
to which she can't belong;
that once a mind isolates, a veil falls...
Awards/Recognition:
Four Way Books Intro Series in Poetry selected by Grace Shulman