The house shuddered all day, trying to cast
me out, but I would not abandon.
The wind, ravenous gusts, arrived in gasps
through chinks in the plaster, rattled doorjambs,

spit snow-shards on channels of glare ice.
A whole geography took shape in a king bed,
vast continent of quilt where we played nice,
turned and hugged the coasts. Caught in a net

of half-truths I thrashed like a landlocked
panfish slick with perilous hunger
and the story paid out its unseen line, thoughts
unwinding in dark sheets, phantom lover

like a barb in the gills, rasping ruin
me take me sink me in the water again

Diana Whitney
Latest posts by Diana Whitney (see all)