Irene Cooper
octets iii
we live
under the same
sun under the same blue
rules & behind the unglassed walls
we stir some honey in our tea
lulled by the innocent
clink of metal
on bone
i want
you ignorant
of heartache tho i know
it’s stupid & selfish i thrilled
to watch you grow forgot how roots
will tear the earth apart
to meet their
dark desire
undone
but is there less
devastation in sleep
a body repaired is ever
in need is never not the main
event the circus throbs
the bread bloats give
me air
sirens
yesterday mid
morning turns out a man
stabbed his mother while a neighbor
brewed a second pot of coffee
as my husband poured juice
spread butter on
his toast
Irene Cooper wrote the feminist noir novel Found, winner of the North Street Prize; Committal, poet-friendly spyfy about family; and spare change: poems, finalist for the Stafford/Hall award. Writings appear in Beloit Poetry, Denver Quarterly, The Rumpus, Witness, and elsewhere. Her poetry collection, even my dreams are over the constant state of anxiety, was recently published by Airlie Press. Irene teaches and lives with her people and Roxy in the middle of Oregon.
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