Lucie Brock-Broido

Lucie Brock-Broido Poems

1. Dove, Interrupted 5/22/2015
2. A Meadow 1/21/2016
3. Carpe Demon 10/24/2017
4. Currying the Fallow-Colored Horse 10/24/2017
5. Extreme Wisteria 10/24/2017
6. Father, in Drawer 10/24/2017
7. Infinite Riches in the Smallest Room 10/24/2017
8. Gouldian Kit 10/24/2017
9. A Girl Ago 10/24/2017
10. Freedom of Speech 10/24/2017
11. Meditation on the Sources of the Catastrophic Imagination 10/24/2017
12. Two Girls Ago 10/24/2017
13. You Have Harnessed Yourself Ridiculously to This World 10/24/2017
14. Carrowmore 10/24/2017
15. Did Not Come Back 10/24/2017
16. Domestic Mysticism 10/24/2017
17. Real Life 10/24/2017
18. After the Grand Perhaps 10/24/2017
19. How Can It Be I Am No Longer I 5/14/2015

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Best Poem of Lucie Brock-Broido

How Can It Be I Am No Longer I

Winter was the ravaging in the scarified
Ghost garden, a freak of letters crossing down a rare

Path bleak with poplars. Only the yew were a crewel
Of kith at the fieldstone wall, annulled

As a dulcimer cinched in a green velvet sack.
To be damaged is to endanger—taut as the stark

Throats of castrati in their choir, lymphless & fawning
& pale. The miraculous conjoining

Where the beamless air harms our self & lung,
Our three-chambered heart & sternum,

Where two made a monstrous
Braid of other, ravishing.

To damage is an animal ...

Read the full of How Can It Be I Am No Longer I

Father, in Drawer

Mouthful of earth, hair half a century silvering, who buried him.
With what. Make a fist for heart. That is the size of it.
Also directives from our  DNA.
The nature of  his wound was the clock-cicada winding down.
He wound down.
July, vapid, humid: sails of sailboats swelled, yellow boxes
Of   cigars from Cuba plumped. Ring fingers fattened for a spell.

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