Thursday, February 17, 2011

motherhood, feminism, groundhogs

Just a few of the recently recurring themes here at the blog.

If David Sedaris won't do it, New Yorker poet Ellen Bryant Voigt will. Confirm the bureaucratic nature of groundhogs, that is. The beginning of her beautiful poem,


not unlike otters which we love frolicking
floating on their backs like truant boys unwrapping lunch
same sleek brown pelt some overtones of gray and rust
though groundhogs have no swimming hole and lunch
is rooted in the ground beneath short legs small feet
like a fat man's odd diminutive loafers not
frolicking but scurrying layers of fat his coat
gleams as though wet shines chestnut sable darker



Post a Comment

Links to this post:

Create a Link

<< Home

Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]