Martha Collins Poems

Draw a line. Write a line. There.
Stay in line, hold the line, a glance
between the lines is fine but don't
turn corners, cross, cut in, go over
...

Wanted that red, wanted everything tucked inside
that red, that body, it seemed, turned inside out,
that walking flower, petals furled, leaved
by the trees by the forest path, the yellow basket
...

Not much. Less. Slip
of a finger, diminished
interval, maybe third
...

Because my father said Yes
but not in our lifetimes Because
my mother said I know my daughter
...