Thursday, August 22, 2019

Patricia Goedicke

“Though it looks like a throat, it is not.”

I never knew that she’d known
Both Frost and Auden.
She once told me that I spoke

More poetry than I seemed
To know how to write,
That my use of metaphor 

Was all in my talk.
She said this in her driveway
On a winter day

In Missoula, Montana,
Between piles of dirty snow,
As if to say, “how bizarre,”

And I can’t say I blamed her,
And I never forgave her.

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