Summer 2012
Table of Contents - Vol. VIII, No. 2
Poetry Fiction Translations Reviews
Norma Chapman
Tension wakes me every morning.
My body reverberates, a plucked harp.
A new note sounds before the old one stops.
I love you
and you
and you.
It’s not enough.
I drink and don’t get drunk.
A parasite in my belly feeds. It takes.
It’s the wrong time. It has to go.
The wind pushes and I push back, my hair blown
so hard it tries to leave its roots.
I am older.
What I did shames me.
I turn to the church.
I long for justice and mercy. Every cell of what I am
is sharp with longing.
A baby comes to my belly to listen, longs as I do.
Like Jacob, I wrestle with truth.
My baby breaks out to drink and live. I love her.
It’s not enough.
I’m on my knees. I’m fed by what I hated.
I need nothing.
© Norma Chapman