Distant Shame (excerpt)

By Zelda

I am bound in gratitude

to a pale green leaf -

for a leaf

is a hand

that pulls my soul from the abyss

with a simple, silky affection,

with no judgment about my life;

for a leaf is a startling story of freshness

and revival of the dead

Hurry

BY MARIE HOWE

We stop at the dry cleaners and the grocery store 

and the gas station and the green market and
Hurry up honey, I say, hurry,
as she runs along two or three steps behind me
her blue jacket unzipped and her socks rolled down.

Where do I want her to hurry to? To her grave?
To mine? Where one day she might stand all grown?
Today, when all the errands are finally done, I say to her,
Honey I'm sorry I keep saying Hurry—
you walk ahead of me. You be the mother.

And, Hurry up, she says, over her shoulder, looking
back at me, laughing. Hurry up now darling, she says,
hurry, hurry, taking the house keys from my hands.