Thursday, 7 April 2016

A poem by Anne Britting Oleson


All day, alone, she keeps busy:
kneading bread, she makes a fist and pounds,
turns the dough and pounds again.
She dusts, caressing the spines
of books with the touch of feathers.
Her fingers slip under the flap of a bill,
grip a pen to pay it.
She makes breakfast, lunch, dinner.
She washes her hair, washes her clothes.
She grubs in the garden
for new potatoes, ties up
tomato plants with their heavy fruit.
In the evening, she turns the pages
of a magazine, tracing lines of words.
In the heart of the cold night, she wakes
and finds herself holding her own hand.

Anne Britting Oleson has been published widely on four continents. She earned her MFA at the Stonecoast program of USM. She has published two chapbooks, The Church of St. Materiana (2007) and The Beauty of It (2010). A third chapbook, Counting the Days, is forthcoming from Pink Girl Ink, and a novel, The Book of the Mandolin Player, is forthcoming from B Ink Publishing--both in spring 2016.

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