a taunted wild thing,
claws out, poised
to leap for the most
vulnerable skin. It
lurks in shadows.
You can’t tame it.
Teeth of fire, your
heart in its cross fire,
any calm about to
be gulped whole
would curl as
close, closer than
the cat, afternoons
the wild plum
starts opening,
her shape, still a
part of me. It
seems she would
fit into the
hollows of my
body as she
once did. March
birds through the
shutters, mint tea
in a glass near
the bed, peeled
oranges, a freeze
frame where nothing
moves. Fragrant
skin, maple buds
opening. Still-
ness, her warm
blonde hair,
sun sweet, all
I’d need if
I had her
that that was why
I kept seeing green-
eyed girls on the
metro, 17 years
older of course
than she'd be. You
might think I needed
to talk to her about
something our mother
said, strange, I wrote
"over" not "our"
though our "our" is
over. Sometimes
when the phone rings
and no one is
there imagine her
voice as I would a
shy lover. Her e-mail,
mine by chance,
glows, stapled in a
notebook. There are
no children to
link us, nothing that
braids us in a hair
wreath to the past. I
dial her phone for
her voice, knew
when I found her on
a horse blog it was
as close as we’d get
Lyn Lifshin's Another Woman Who Looks Like Me was published by Black Sparrow in 2006 and selected for the 2007 Paterson Award for Literary Excellence. Other recent books include Barbaro: Beyond Brokenness (Texas Review Press, 2008), Persephone (Red Hen, 2008) and 92 Rapple Drive (Coatalism Press, 2008). Her book Nutley Pond is forthcoming from Goose River Press, and Light at the End, the Jesus Poems is forthcoming from Hazmat Press. Her poems have appeared in most literary and poetry magazines and she is the subject of a film, Lyn Lifshin: Not Made of Glass, from Women Make Movies. Her web site is www.lynlifshin.com.