30. It Was Then Our Lives A Little Fire

The destination ahead—

always a piece from a puzzle box.

Those hoses flooding

the pieces I laid as slabs.

After it all— he is put into his bed

as if a knife into a drawer.

We were cattle on our way

to the stockyards on our family vacations

woven as a braided rug

or knitting yarn

in a store window.

Always in his hand

these rough places the car went right over

as if he were God.

Now in his box

in his grave where I could get to him now.

— Diane Glancy

Diane Glancy is professor emeritus at Macalester College in St. Paul, MN.  She moved to Shawnee Mission, Kansas in 2005.  A new collection of essays, THE DREAM OF A BROKEN FIELD, is forthcoming from the University of Nebraska Press in 2011.  Her latest poetry collection, STORIES OF THE DRIVEN WORLD, was published by Mammoth Publications.  She is the recipient of two National Endowment for the Arts fellowships and an American Book Award.  She was born in Kansas City where her father worked for the stockyards.

One thought on “30. It Was Then Our Lives A Little Fire

  1. The title is intriguing, but the poem itself is a little too esoteric for me. Perhaps I’ll come around eventually.

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