Sonnet #69


After John Berryman and Marianne Moore

Ceaselessly sullen, switch grass sacks fall:
Strike! We run for a strong love’s body-beaten cover.
I lusk, you tramp, and the hummingbird draws
Sweetness from a limp trumpet flower. Ferocious,
You with that handle-rake, you comb my hair
Tangled by suppressed gestures, stamped
By a forearm with no damp cover.
“Who are you?” you stammer,
Callous and crotchety like a blimp that won’t rise.

The woodpecker is our wood-warden,
And she culls us blistering to a pine’s tenacious shade.
Pools of chips lay at our feet: vanilla burn.
Our smells melt in a comparable air.
Ant nests sink under our clinks
And these worn fingers prod acorns to snug holes.







For over twelve years, Gabrielle Myers worked as a cook and chef for San Francisco Bay Area restaurants and catering companies. She currently teaches Composition classes at St. Mary’s College of California, Yuba College, and Diablo Valley College. Her recent publications include poems in the San Francisco Public PressNeboDamselfly Press, The Solitary Plover, Caesura, The Evergreen Review, and 14 Hills. Last year she published a critical essay on Virginia Woolf and the trench poets of World War I in the journal English, a division of Oxford University Press.

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One Response to Poem by Gabrielle Myers

  1. Michael Duffett says:

    Hello Gabrielle. Pity we have not met at Delta but there is time (maybe not much; I’m 73!) I too have written on Virginia Woolf. It led to my first book “Evolution: A Japanese Journal.” Lots since. Let’s meet.
    Mike Duffett

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