Folk Magic

By VALERIE DUFF 

We are following the hearse,
the body in the hearse steady
as a tree, Not my father
any longer jagged timber,

skidded from the world.
Winter face, eyes tight, reject
the earth. Ground, rough out
Arabian night, let him drown

in trunk and sap. Hoofbeats
hover on the chintz.
Hands, upend the seamless
flying carpet. Wagon

that’s been rigged to bear
sharp wind, brace
for final shift. Put your faith in
blue hydrangea ground to powder.

 

Valerie Duff is the author of the poetry collection To the New World.

Listen to Valerie Duff and Leslie McGrath read and discuss “Folk Magic” on our Contributors in Conversation podcast.

[Click here to purchase your copy of Issue 07]

Folk Magic

Related Posts

The Hundertwasser House in Vienna

Etude No. 2 and Etude No. 3

KIM CURTS MATTHEUSSENS
in Rome a monumental marble typewriter / ticked out their story into the sky: two lovers / devour time. she lay on the lawn near Trajan's / column. he plucked letters from her dress, / her hair, served them to her by hand, by mouth.

Image of an intensely green trailhead.

December 2022 Poetry Feature: Kevin McIlvoy

KEVIN McILVOY
On mine spoil. In debris fields / of asphalt and concrete and brick. / Upon sites of chemical spills. / Along lifeless riverbanks. / In clonal groves so hardy you / have to steel yourself for years / of killing to kill one acre. / Where construction crews rake off / the surface

field spotted with red flowers

December 2022 Poetry Feature

TOMMYE BLOUNT
It feels good grazing against my skin, / all that satin and muslin—a high / thread count to tuck in / the American Dream. Embroidery / and tassels fit for men like me / who would pay a good buck / to be a part of this invisible kingdom. / Ah! This flair for pageantry / seen in a film—