Halfway between Troy and Moscow, she lives in a house scoured pewter by wind the back gate a tatter of signs - BEWARE OF THE DOG - 90¢ A DOZEN - HONK. In an onion of sweaters, an overlap of holes, she complains the sonic booms crack her goose eggs - the dog barks toothless as her smile. Hat crammed to the hollows of her eyes, their yolks blurred by cataracts, she explains how she folds the infertile back into the feed - a recycling of naughts to aughts. Snow seeds the furrowed hills where, a scuttle of arthritis between the weather of barn and house, this woman deals in eggs, her age a cipher of circles. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A SECOND REVIEW OF THE GRAND ARMY [MAY 24, 1865] by FRANCIS BRET HARTE THE ELF AND THE DORMOUSE by OLIVER BROOK HERFORD ODES I, 38. AD MINISTRAM by QUINTUS HORATIUS FLACCUS THE SHEPHEARDES CALENDER: OCTOBER by EDMUND SPENSER THE LAMP [LAMPE] by HENRY VAUGHAN THE CASE OF SABRINA SIMPSON USCH by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS LILIES: 30. THE WHOLE by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) |