It's amazing what breakfast (especially if it's a cinnamon roll) with the ladies can do for my spirits. My aunt brought in a book of poetry by Vassar Miller. We had read some of her poems when we were at the ranch for Thanksgiving, and I really liked them. I'm in charge of choosing one to discuss next week. (I might sneak an Edna St. Vincent Millay poem in there, too, though!)

Mrs. Lot
By Vassar Miller

There has to be something said for Lot's
wife, for looking back, not moving on, for,
in other words, nostalgia, that onetwo
threefourfivesixseveneightnine letter
dirty word, when even Jesus for whom
she serves as reminder says to remember
her, and why else if he didn't mean what
he said, understanding, of course, women
apt to cling to their homes, not having
in those days much else to cling to—and
what if they clung—like Lot's poor wife whose
name we don't even know to recall, she
having to pull up stakes and get out
just because some men liked other men, that
being none of her affair, beside which
she'd never liked Uncle Abraham's loose
foot she swore he was born with, and so
she has long gazed back on the past which she
couldn't put back any more than a pulled
tooth, for which crime she stands changed to a briny
pillar, still turned toward her yesterdays and
her God who surrounds her on all sides—right,
left, front, and back—her sad but salty stare.

Faux Pas
By Vassar Miller

I sat with you in a back pew when
your father died; for you, stared at so long,
would not gape at the helpless dead.

At your mother's funeral I thought to sit
in the same place beside you, decent as always
to the point of fault. Who would have guessed!

Dear friend, forgive my unaverted eyes.
But there's no back row of the mind to hide
here from the horror of your dying.

Bagatelle
FOR HELEN GREVE
By Vassar Miller

Of all the days dropped in time's pocket
this day will seek acknowledgment
with a child’s shy asking,

because the love between us used
no word uncommoner than coffee,
and was never traced

by graphs of huge emotion. Yet
some fancy will recall this day
hallowed past recognition.

Now, since I ran my samples last night, I just have to analyze my data today. I shall likely take the afternoon off. Yay!