by Barbara Duffey
—after Theo Jansen
The wolves bind my belly-cast, my body
a fox-draw, primitive milkground.
The green-eyed ocean had its run
of my skeleton, trumpeted
up any salient sorrow,
until the dog-girl lunged out spring.
Then I was three strangers. I was
wire in the skin, I was put
out of number. I moved a little
like water. I came back to my
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ABOUT THE POET ~
Duffey, assistant professor of English at Dakota Wesleyan University in Mitchell where she teaches creative writing, composition and literature courses, has written poetry for almost 25 years, since her fifth-grade instructor told the class to write similes., “He also had us write Mother’s Day poems to our mothers, ” Duffey said. “I actually think my mother still has the poem I wrote for her, Mother’s Day 1991. My parents were always supportive of my writing.”
Last updated December 24, 2014