In her own words...

"A Note from the Rock"


Down through the ages I slid
to land on a shoal of bedsprings,
tight-webbed and full

of dreams but a poor stand-in  
for bedrock. The rock was what
I thought I wanted:

the rip, its blood bruise, its dare
I’d meet with calm and, above all,
without amazement.

A baffle-board, I would lob
amazement to where it gasped
before it had

a chance to crawl on my skin—
the amazing thing catching at
my very breath.

Amazement gone, what on earth
was I, then ? To what aspire?
Was there a sign?

With the little I know now of
summer haze and the winter
ice flower melting

on a dirty window, my bedrock
insouciance, showing fissure,
stares dumbly at

the snowflake, its six-gored lace,
like no other, unraveling in a
wet goodbye, goodbye..            


About this work

“A Note from the Rock” was first published in The Yale Review, Vol. 94, no. 1 (January 2006), p. 121.  It is also included in Dorothea Tanning's book, Coming to That: Poems, New York: Graywolf Press, 2011, p. 31, and may not be reprinted without the publisher's permission.