To find a way more gracefully to [make] love,
pliant-necked as a swan,
set to a river’s rhythm. To find a tiny fetish
in your honor in the rare
shape of a swan egg. Seldom thing. To find
in a turbid mind
that which sinks down sometimes.
To find a white
hen that lays brown eggs, a surprise like that
once in a while. Egg-box
that goes white white white brown white white
white white white
white white white. Like that. Deteriorating sentence,
I adore you and your
holy syntactical roadmap. The gaps in our
loving as much.
Circa 1982, in a little Louisville neighborhood called Buechel, Jessica Farquhar learned how to write her name at the counter of Fanelli’s, an ice cream parlor owned by her grandparents, which was regulared also by Muhammad Ali. Her work has appeared in Diagram, The Journal and Fogged Clarity, among other journals. If you open up the Poet's Almanac app on a snowy day, you might be doled out one of her poems.