After a Quarrel
Mary Crow

After a Quarrel

I only wanted high points,
epiphany when eyes meet
and spark, flash of electric-blue
wings of a morpho, not dirty
gray shadows thronging the road,
beneath vultures screeching
from trees, not a land of explosions,
nor twentieth-century strangeness
sink-holing the twenty-first’s
restless sands of reality.

Touch here, and I give way
to elsewhere, to the slick path
along the rim of a desert water
hole, stagnant pool below
lost-in fog, so only the sleek
wooden circles, stepping stones
cut from tree hearts, reveal
their forms, and I reach
for your hand to steady my way
in this slippery silence.

Mary Crow

has contributed poems to American Poetry Review, New Madrid, and Hotel Amerika, and her work is forthcoming in Notre Dame Review, Saranac Review, and West Texas Review. She is working on a book of poems based on the spring uprising in Egypt.