Keith Tuma
Writing
February
viewing Louis Lafitte's Calendar
first published in The Notre Dame Review
after that scarlet wound
a white scarf for a month of rain
bigger than the clouds
on the revolutionary calendar
she is the weather
a sail clenched
marble eyes
more peasant than nymph
freed from histories
intractable as the wind held
attention straight
presenting thoughtfulness
steadily for France
billowing like a friar
what is she thinking
cut like that
kings come to rest
we eat another nectar
another poison
salutations regardless
newly uncertain
no god to scrape up
bitter and rocks
turning blue towards the sea
trembles and frail
trees sparse
clinging to earth fatal
absence of excuses
as if remembering
she had forgotten
vipers evicted
an unknown vice
following the others
guilty the unsatisfied
questions arose
scratched on easels
politics parsed
wind to judge and progress
has to be rid of corpses
cruel smile solitary
steady the commonplace
victory the seed
sprouting without delicacy
a woman walking
remembers the despicable
claim your life's
unbearable what people say
terrifying dive
from where they stood
probably the pit
virtues imperfectly
abiding the way
slaves of freedom
and likewise artful reasoning
dies like embers in snow
the faithful suspects
remain to corner
partisans of the country roads
orgies of feeling
bones beside the fountain
the flags hang still
dripping in the wet
odor of the mutilated---
but this is a month
sorrow will be silent.