Idée fixe
By Karen Rigby
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The house with its zinc roof. Red hibiscus.
White magnolia. Cinderblock ringed in green cultivars. Water slides down louvered glass, a representation of— what? Relief. Release. How many afternoons spent turning through books starring girls unlike me, in brownstone cities or two-story marvels, no cyclone fence, no post-war father, no sister, no mother. Can I say what I felt then? Between iron bars and flecked terrazzo, arguments no one remembers—one mind eroding the shore of another—I lived in their house without speaking, swallowing malediction and mercy like all children who picture leaving, the gate overrun with heliconia, walls furred with bees. Karen Rigby is the author of Chinoiserie (Ahsahta Press). Her poems have been published in The London Magazine, Australian Book Review, The Spectacle, and other journals. She lives in Arizona.
Visit her website: www.karenrigby.com |