Marilyn L Taylor

For Lucy, Who Came First

She simply settled down in one piece right where she was, in the sand of a long-vanished lake edge or stream and died. -Donald C. Johanson, paleoanthropologist When I put my hand up to

To the Mother of a Dead Marine

Your boy once touched me, yes. I knew you knew When your wet, reddened gaze drilled into me, Groped through my clothes for signs, some residue Of him-some lusciousness of mine that he Had

The Geniuses Among Us

They take us by surprise, these tall perennials That jut like hollyhocks above the canopy Of all the rest of us-bright testimonials To the scale of human possibility. They come to bloom for every

One in 250 Cambodians, or 40,000 people, Have lost a limb to a landmine. -Newsfront, U. N. Development Programme Communications Office On both sides of the screaming highway, the world Is made of emerald

Subject to Change

A reflection on my students They are so beautiful, and so very young They seem almost to glitter with perfection, These creatures that I briefly move among. I never get to stay with them

At the End

In another time, a linen winding sheet Would already have been drawn About her, the funeral drums by now Would have throbbed their dull tattoo Into the shadows writhing Behind the fire’s eye While

Reading the Obituaries

Now the Barbaras have begun to die, Trailing their older sisters to the grave, The Helens, Margies, Nans-who said goodbye Just days ago, it seems, taking their leave A step or two behind the

Again

The children are back, the children are back- They’ve come to take refuge, exhale and unpack; The marriage has faltered, the job has gone bad, Come open the door for them, Mother and Dad.

Reverie, with Fries

Straight-spined girl-yes, you of the glinting earrings, Amber skin and sinuous hair: what happened? You’ve no business lunching with sticky children Here at McDonald’s. Are they yours? How old were you when you had