Ghost Child of the Atalanta Bloom
Her lines storm out of the gate and maintain a thrilling, cogent sense of direction, as if Rebecca Aronson has only recently been given permission to communicate and she is eager to share. A resident of New Mexico, where she teaches writing, Aronson’s first collection, Creature, Creature, was published in 2007, and her work has appeared in Tin House, the Georgia Review, and the Paris American.
Walking to School
For LRA
The broken-loose dog caught scent and dove
for the cluster of puffed hens scattering fast
to hedges and railings; five escaped,
barely and not unscathed. The sixth
became a spent balloon deflating quickly. I wonder
how you’ll remember this morning’s walk.
That I dropped your hand and took off
calling after the run-away, breathlessly and too late,
or the collapsed chicken twitching slightly
before going still in the empty street?
No blood, just plumage drifting like blown leaves.
Nobody noticed you at first, one foot then another
edging to the sight of that first death.
Reviewed by
Matt Sutherland
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